


Voices Of Freedom

by DemonDean10



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blind John, Character Death, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Fluff, George gets better, Hurt/Comfort, I wouldn't say major, Kidnapping, Knight George, Knight Ringo, M/M, Mildly Based of Troy (2004), Mildly Based off The Prince of Persia, No Homophobia, Paul is good, Prince Paul, Protective Paul, alternative universe, like totally, priest john, priestess - Freeform, prisoner of war John, warning:slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2019-09-20 11:11:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17021580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonDean10/pseuds/DemonDean10
Summary: Prince Paul is the Greatest Warrior of the Kingdom of Allerton. After his people conquer the kingdom of Mendip Hill, they find a mysterious figure. Paul is gifted something he does not want.Enemies from birth, the two could not possibly find love. But they just might.Okay the summary is shit but oh well.





	1. Woman in White

**Author's Note:**

> Ignore any plot holes you might judge in a movie. I just really wanted to get this story going. Please leave comments and kudos if you like.

Allertorian soldiers cheered as their generals paraded the streets of their newly conquered kingdom. Their King, James I, was at the front of the party with his son and most venerated warrior, Prince Paul by his side. 

 

After a long campaign, the small but rich kingdom of Mendip Hill had been defeated. Their King and commander, George I, had died of illness during the war and with no warrior heir apparent, the army had fallen. 

 

Prince Paul waved and smiled at his fellow warriors, defenders of Allerton and of the faith. The Mendipians were heretics, worshiping only one Goddess whom they claimed to be omnipotent. Yet, looking at the frightened citizens of the once mighty city, Paul could see their faith shaken. 

 

As per tradition, all royal women were trained not in war but in faith and statesmanship. The women cared for the prosperity of the kingdom, and the men made sure it was not in danger from the outside. Their Queen, Mary Elizabeth of Menlove, was renowned for being the fiercest  one to date, and Paul worried for the negotiations. They were defeated, its true, but apparently the Queen had ways of tricking foreign powers into poor deals and ill-advised treaties. His father was a great warrior, but he lacked a mind for state matters.

 

The party finally reached what was left of the royal palace, it had been partly burnt down and many of its pillars were mere dust now. Still, Paul could see that it once had been a beautiful place, and a part of him felt regret for destroying such art. 

 

His mood lightened when he spotted his friend and confidant, Sir George, waving at him from behind his father. Paul got off his horse, Drake’s Drum, and headed in his direction. 

 

“Greetings, oh majestic warrior!” His friend said, bowing comically.

 

Paul snorted, “Stand up, George, you make a fool of yourself.”

 

George swatted at him, “No more a fool than what I made of the Mendipians, got them to destroy their own temple, didn’t I?” Sir George had been in charge of the legion that had tricked the Mendipian army into setting fire to their sacred temple, thinking it was a regular building since it had been covered in shadows, grime, and stone dust. 

 

“Yes, that was very impressive.” Paul admitted as they entered the palace, the general that had captured the royal family leading the way. “There was no one inside?”

 

George shrugged, “If they were, my men killed them.”

 

Paul frowned, “Unarmed priests?”

 

“Priestesses, Paul. To go with their heretic goddess.” George looked at him, “Your father gave the order to give no quarter to anyone.”

 

Paul looked away, he had contested that order. After all, the city had been full of children when he had seen it prior, years ago in a failed attempt at peace negotiations. But the King had spoken and his men would follow. 

 

He made to speak but was interrupted by the roar of an enormous door opening, revealing a large room that was now covered in stone dust from the ceiling and broken glass from the large windows. At the center, in a surprisingly clean throne, sat Queen Mary Elizabeth. The two princesses, Julia and Jacqueline, stood by her side. Behind her was a short man in a knight’s uniform, his face bloody and his hair in disarray. Paul recognized him as Sir Richard, supposedly Mendip Hill’s greatest warrior. But his legion had suffered huge losses and he had been gravely injured. Paul admired him for being there today, even after his injury. 

 

He finally noticed his father speaking. 

 

“Do not expect mercy from me, woman.” King James was saying, “I offered you peace before and you betrayed my people. I have destroyed your city, decimated your army, burnt your goddess to the ground. Allerton is victorious now and forever more.”

 

The queen’s face betrayed no emotion and her voice did not tremble as she spoke, “Your peace was false, your promises worthless. My country defended itself from your lies and for that you brought us war.”

 

“Yes,” Paul’s father answered, “A war which you have lost, majesty. What have you to offer now?”

 

“What you see is what we have left, dust and ash.” Was her only answer.

 

King James and his advisors laughed, but Paul kept silent. He was staring at the Princesses, they were children, no older than a decade, yet their stance was strong and their faces hard. Impressive. 

 

King James continued, “I have seen your mountains of gold and your mines of precious diamond. Do not try and fool with your tricks, I shall not fall again.”

 

“I do not lie.” Queen Mary Elizabeth answered, “For years now the mines have been empty, our resources depleted. Now, this war has cost us all we had left.”

 

The King stared, he could see that she was not lying. But then again, tales of her mind tricks were legend. “If you will not surrender it willingly, my men will have to sack your city of all its treasure by force.”

 

“And what do you expect of my people? They have little to offer as it is.” The Queen asked, her eyes slightly widened. 

 

“We will take what they have, if they don’t have much, we shall take their women and young as slaves.” Was the response. 

 

Paul could see Sir Richard tensing, his hand clenching near his sword. 

 

Queen Mary took a deep breath, “And what of the royal family?”

 

The King looked around, “Three of you left, is there? You will speak to your people, get them to cooperate, and in turn I shall let you keep the princesses.” He chuckled and with a glance at Paul said, “I doubt they will be of much entertainment for my son anyways.”

 

Paul forced a chuckle as the others laughed, but looked away as the two little girls looked at him. The eldest with disgust and anger, the youngest with fear. His eyes fell on the queen, who seemed slightly agitated. Her eyes went to a door far to the left of the rooms as his father spoke. He saw Sir Richard’s eyes look towards that door as well. 

 

George noticed too and whispered to his father who ten whispered to the King. 

 

King James frowned at the Queen, “Do you hide something, woman?”

 

The queen was expressionless as she answered, but her hand was clenched, “I hide nothing.”

 

King James regarded her with contempt, “Sir Harold, go see what lies beyond that door.”

 

George and his father headed to the door and Paul noticed how the girls' eyes widened. 

 

While they went to investigate, King James walked closer to the throne. “If I find that you lied to me and there is treasure, you will see no mercy from me.”

 

Sounds were heard from beyond the door, faint fighting. After a few moments Sir Harold appeared holding in his hand a beautiful diamond diadem. “We found a cellar full of gems, your majesty. Untouched by the damages to the palace.”

 

King James turned red, but Paul spoke first. “Unguarded?”

 

His friend’s voice answered him, “Only with him.” And he dragged a young warrior out with the leg. The warrior was breathing heavily, his eyes closed and his side bleeding. George smiled, “But he wasn’t alone.”

 

And two other soldiers came out dragging a struggling figure in a white robe. The robe of a priestess. Her head was covered by a thick weil, impossible to see through, and her fine hands were decorated with diamonds and gold rings. She wore a gold circlet around her head, with beads of diamonds falling around her like hair, the mark of a virgin. 

 

As Paul stared, his father smiled cruelly then. “Who is she then, majesty?”

 

The queen did not answer.

 

The King’s face turned sour, “You have lied to me again, woman. And you shall pay for this. Take the girls!”

 

Soldiers stepped forwards with swords and Sir Richard met them with his own. Meanwhile the girls tried to run, but other men caught them. In the bafflement, the young warrior freed himself from George’s grasp and stood up. He headed for the virgin, who was still struggling in the soldiers grasp. 

She managed to free herself and the young soldier grabbed her by the hand and the ran to where the girls were being held. 

 

Paul raised his sword and ran to where Sir Richard and the queen were battling men. Perhaps she had not been trained for war, but that queen was certainly matching the King’s men’s strength.  

 

Meanwhile, King James was fighting with some servants that had risen to the occasion, killing them easily and with no hesitation. 

 

Sir Richard had gotten separated from the queen and was now next to the young warrior and the priestess, who was holding on to the two girls. But the two were distracted by the sight of the queen being struck down, and they tried to run in her direction, in this confusion, Sir George was able to grab the woman by the middle. She let go of the girls and shouted at their soldiers to run. Sir Richard did not hesitate to grab the Princesses and sprint away, but the injured warrior did. As he did so, another soldier appeared and stabbed him from behind. There was no reaction from the woman in white, who was still kicking at George with surprising strength. 

 

The young warrior fell and soldiers chased after Sir Richard. 

 

The confusion ended in the throne room. The queen was kneeling against her throne, her hand covering her side. The virgin was thrown next to her. 

 

Paul’s father thundered, “Find them! Find them!”

 

Sir Harold picked up his sword, “The city is surrounded, they have no way out.”

 

Suddenly a laugh was heard coming from the queen’s direction. But it was not the queen, it was the priestess. 

 

George pointed his sword at her but there was no reaction, “Why do you laugh?”

 

She just kept laughing. The queen was smiling too, though her smile was covered in blood. 

 

The King and some of the other men were frowning now, there was something wrong with that laugh. “Who are you?” Paul asked. 

“Why were you not at the temple?” George continued. 

 

They were distracted by the queen’s coughs. She was coughing up blood. The virgin stopped laughing then and she hesitantly turned towards the sound. Her hands were raised and she carefully took one of the queen’s own. The queen was slowly taking off a ring, the ring that had belonged to the king, and with a shaking hand she put it on one of her hands. 

 

King James stared at the two figures. Could it be? His spies from years ago had spoken of three royal children, though over the years those claims had been considered wrong. No one knew anything about a third princess, why would she be given to priesthood?

 

Paul was also thinking something along this theory. Only those of the bloodline could wear such a ring, if the bloodline died out then another was forged for the next ruler. Giving this ring away could only mean that the woman in wife was of royal descent. 

 

For her part, the woman in white seemed to be shaking her head and trying to take the ring off, but with her last ounce of strength the Queen kept holding it in place. 

 

“It belongs...to you..now, Jo-” The end of her sentence was a whisper and her eyes closed soon after that. 

 

Paul thought her dead for a moment, but her chest still rose and fell, although with difficulty. He saw that the woman in white was checking as well, holding her covered head near the Queen’s heart, sighing in relief as she heard a heartbeat. 

 

But she shrieked as she was picked off the ground and thrown at King James’ feet. He stared at her robed figure and thought. Without looking away he spoke to on of his generals, “Have someone heal the Queen, we need her to talk to her people. I don’t want to deal with any more petty resistance.”

 

As the queen was picked up and carried away, King James raised voice at the virgin. “What is your name?”

 

She did not answer.

 

“Are you of royal blood?”

 

No anwer.

 

“Speak or I kill you.”

 

Silence. Then.

 

“You will never know what you what to know, them.” The figure answered.

 

The voice was muffled by the veil but still everyone could hear something...off about it. 

 

Paul stepped closer, “What’s your name?”

 

The figure did not answer. 

 

The King huffed, “Enough of this!” And he raised his sword, ignoring his son’s protests he swung down. 

 

And sliced through the veil. Sir Harold knelt beside her and ripped it open, the circlet cluttering to the ground. 

 

Everyone gasped. The priestess was no woman, but a man. And young one, about Paul’s age. He looked around in confusion, but focused on nothing. He held the ripped parts of his robe close to his body, he didn’t appear to be wearing anything else. 

 

King James looked closely at him, “So the third child was a man all along.” The boy moved to look at his general direction. “They tried to disguise you as a virgin for your goddess, fools.” He and the rest of the men laughed. 

 

Paul frowned and stepped closer. He knelt beside the figure and raised a hand. He didn’t react. Paul waved it around, very close to the other’s face. Nothing. “I don’t think it was a disguise, father.”

 

King James frowned, “What do you mean, son?”

 

Paul looked at him, “He’s blind.”

 

The King looked at the figure, he was staring at Paul or rather at his general direction. The King brought his sword up to the boy’s chin and slowly turned his head. They locked eyes, and James saw that they were completely unseeing. Still, he asked, “Is it true?”

 

The man hesitated for a moment before speaking, “Yes. It’s true.”

 

Now that his voice was unmuffled, Paul could hear it well. It was certainly on the high pitch of things, but it was still clearly a mans. A bit nasal too, though not in an annoying way.

 

His father continued, “Are you of royal blood?”

 

With a sword still held to his throat, the man rolled his unseeing eyes. “Obviously.”

 

Paul hid a smile. “What is your name?” He asked.

 

The Prince could not move his head but answered back, “What’s yours?” His hissed as the sword was moved, cutting the skin of his chin.

 

But Paul indulged him, “Prince Paul of Allerton. Now it’s your turn, Prince…?”

 

The man’s eyes narrowed, “I am not a Prince. I am a Priestess.”

 

There were some laughs. King James chuckled, “I thought you were a man.”

 

“It does not make me less of a servant to Her.” He hissed.

 

Paul looked at him, “What is your name then, priestess?”

 

The man’s head slightly tilted in his direction, finally he said, “John. John of Lennon.”

 

George frowned, “The son of the disgraced consort, Alfred of Lennon?”

 

John hesitated again, “...Yes.”

 

“Why was there no knowledge of you?” Paul asked, the birth of a royal heir would have surely been great news before the fall of Alfred of Lennon.

 

John forced a laugh, “I was born weak, they kept it a secret in case I did not survive. Then the healers noticed my...deficiency. How could I become a warrior king like my ancestors if I am blind? I was given to the temple.”

 

Paul was about to speak again, when George interrupted, “You are a virgin, then?”

 

John seemed offended, “Goddess demands  _ purity _ .”

 

George seemed confused, “So is that a yes-”

 

“It’s a yes, George.” Paul spoke, rolling his eyes at his friend, who merely shrugged. 

 

John continued, “I belong to the Goddess.”

 

King James lowered his sword, “Not anymore, I don’t think. You belong to my son now.”

 

Paul looked up quickly, “What?”

 

John echoed the question.

 

The King smiled at his son warmly, “My gift to you, for all your bravery. You are the greatest warrior, you deserve a great prize.” He pointed at the kneeling priestess, “Take the virgin, he’s quite pretty. He shall be your slave, do with him as you like. Although we may need him should his aunt not live, do not damage him much.”

 

Paul looked at John’s affronted face and whispered to his father, “Sire, you know how I feel about slaves, imprison him if you wish but-”

 

“No buts! I have indulged your fantasies long enough. You are unmarried and require someone to warm your bed. I give him to you, if you insist on refusing, I will give him to someone else.” King James rebuked him. 

 

Paul looked at the priestess, he looked frightened. All cockiness gone. He knew his father meant his threats, at least if Paul took him, the man might be spared some indignity. The Prince didn’t know why he cared, but there was something about this priestess, something that made Paul want to protect him. “Very well then, sire.”

 

King James nodded, “Good.” He spoke to a group of squires, “Take him to my son’s tent, and prepare him.”

 

John struggled as he was picked up and dragged away, but his hands were busy trying to hold up his tattered robes. 

 

Paul watched as he was taken away, feeling sorry for him. He saw that the virgin’s circlet was still on the floor and he reached to pick it off.

 

His father saw him. “Pretty enough, I suppose. Mendipian, however. I’d sell it.”

 

Paul nodded, though he had no plans to follow through with that idea. “If you’ll excuse me, father. I shall retire with the men to join the celebrations.”

 

James laughed, “But of course! I shall join them myself soon. But do not drink too much, my son, you would not want to forget tonight.”

 

Paul forced a convincing smile and nodded. He left the palace, with George following close behind. 

 

“Why do you get a prize and I don’t?” He asked, absolutely unconcerned about what kind of prize he was talking about.

 

Paul answered him, “I do not want him as a slave.”

 

“Can I have him then?”

 

Paul glared, “No. It is wrong, George. Can you not see that?”

 

His friend sighed, “I know your views, my friend. But your father is right, you are lonely. I suggest you accept this gift. Once you are king you will be able to do something against slavery. For now, take what is offered.”

 

Paul shook his head, “I am no hypocrite.”

 

George laughed, “Years ago, when we first met, you told me you believed war to be an absolutely abhorrent thing. That you would never pick up a sword. Now look at you, oh majestic warrior, you’re the victor of the people.”

 

Paul did not answer.

 

George felt slightly guilty at his remark, but said nothing.

 

And the two kept on walking, towards where the festivities were being held.

  
  
  



	2. The Tent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Paul talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos and comments. I shall try to update The Fool by the Seaside soon.

Paul sighed as he threw his empty bottle to the ground, Mendipian wine was shite. He was nearing his tent now, after hours of celebrating with his men. He’d drunk so much he had just about forgotten about what had awaited him in his tent. 

 

But as he pushed the flap away, he was abruptly reminded and his mood sobered. There, in front of his bedroll, was the virgin. John.

 

John was completely naked, his holy robes taken from him. He was on his knees, with his wrists tied to his ankles behind his back. All his jewelry, including the royal ring, was gone. He was shaking with either fear or cold or both, and his head turned towards Paul as he heard the drapes flap. 

 

Paul cursed, how could he forget!? Hurriedly, he went to John’s side and moved to untie him, but the Mendipian flinched away as he felt him move. 

 

“It’s me, Prince Paul. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

 

John scoffed, “You’re a murderer, you and your father.”

 

Paul leaned back, “I’m a soldier.”

 

“You’re a slaver.” John hissed in response, and shook his bonds to make his point.

 

“I want to untie you,” Paul sighed, “Won’t you let me?”

 

John’s body was curled up, “Why,” He snapped, “so you can  _ rape _ me?”

 

“I would not do that.” The prince answered, “Believe me, this wasn’t what I wanted.”

 

John laughed, “So what  _ did _ you want, oh majestic warrior? What did you want when you launched an attack on my city, burnt my temple, and killed my friends?” He accused, “You and your father are monsters.”

 

This upset Paul, “My father is a great man!” He bellowed.

 

“Your father murdered  _ children _ .”

 

Paul stood up, overcome by anger, “Perhaps I should let someone else have you, maybe they can teach you some manners.” 

 

But he immediately regretted it when he saw the kneeling man flinch and cower. The priestess made a pitiful sight: hair still wet from when the soldiers had ‘bathed’ him, wrists and ankles red from the tight coarse rope, blind eyes wide and fearful, limbs tense and curled in an effort to cover his private parts. 

 

Paul immediately felt angry at himself, how could he say something like that to a man who’d already lost it all? “I’m sorry.” He said, “Please, let me untie you.”

 

For a moment there was no movement from John, then he gave a jerky and tense nod. Though his body remained taut as Paul kneeled behind him and started to free him from his bonds.

 

“There.” Paul whispered as he stood up and threw the rope outside the tent. 

 

John was quick to move his knees in front of his chest in an effort to cover himself. He’d never been more embarrassed and ashamed. Who knows how many had seen him bare! As a virgin priestess he had gifted his body to Goddess, promising chastity and dignity, now he had disappointed her and his order. Not that they would be able to judge, seeing as they had all been killed. All his friends, his teachers, and his fellow virgins. Although, perhaps it was a good thing they had died, for surely they would have been enslaved just as he had. They, like him, were young and were kept away from all topics of politics, war, common activities, and especially, sexual intercourse between people. 

 

All priestesses dedicated their lives to Goddess, but since virgins were the offerings of purity, their lives revolved around Her and Her only. They hadn’t even known of the war until it had reached the city walls. 

John had been evacuated to the palace by one of the soldiers that guarded the temple. His name was Sir Stuart of Sutcliffe. He knew of John’s true gender and bloodline, he had been especially assigned by the Queen and King as soon as he’d been knighted. 

 

Though it was forbidden, occasionally John would sneak out from his chamber and talk to Stuart at night, always covered from head to toe. For many years the shared stories, Stu always having much more to share. One night, the knight had asked that John removed his veil. The priestess had been horrified, no one could lay eyes upon a virgin, especially a man. He’d left. 

 

But Stuart had asked again the next time they’d see each other, and John had refused. The next time Stuart had asked again, and the next, and the next. Eventually, John had given in. 

 

The first thing Stu had done was compliment his eyes, then his hair, then his nose, then his lips. John had stopped him there. But Stu had kept going. 

 

“You’re beautiful.” He had said.

 

John had blushed, nobody had called him so before. He’d reached his maturity a mere year before, and none of the priestesses had really had much to say, only that he keep his manly urges at bay and continue behaving with a virgin’s propriety and decorum. 

 

“You speak nonsense, Sir.” John had replied.

 

He had heard Stuart getting closer and tensed only slightly. 

 

“I have seen many lands and many beauties. John, you’re the fairest of them all.” Then Stuart had touched his face. 

 

In an instant, John had stood and moved away. The spell had broken, how could he have done this? He’d broken his bows, bared his face and now touched another. Of course, hands were expected to touch but that was the only contact that was allowed. A hand caressing his cheek? Unforgivable.

 

“I must go.” He had said, clumsily adjusting his veil and circlet. 

 

He’d heard Stuart standing up as well, “John, wait-”

 

“No, I’ve been foolish. I do not wish to see you again.”

 

“John, please-”

 

“Goodbye, Sir Stuart.”

 

And that was how they’d left it, until Stuart had retrieved him from morning prayer. Then the palace had been attacked and Mimi, his aunt, had instructed them towards the vault. So much for that. 

 

And now here he was, his face had been seen by all, touched by all. His dignity was in pieces, his pride burnt down like his temple had been. But he had to ask.

 

“Where is Stuart?” He spoke with his head held high.

 

Paul tilted his head as he started taking off his armbands, “Who?” He’d heard of no such soldier. 

 

John sighed, “The knight that had was with me when your men captured us. My protector.”

 

Shit, Paul thought. He really did not wish to upset the priestess again. But should he lie? “I do not know, I was otherwise occupied.”

 

John let out a breath, perhaps Stu had managed to escape with Ringo, or rather, Sir Richard as Mimi insisted he call him, and his sisters. H was startled by a cloth being shoved in his face. 

 

“Here,” Paul said, slightly uncomfortable, “This is mine, I thought you might like to wear it.”

 

John frowned and held up a hesitant hand, “What is it?”

 

Paul slapped himself, “A robe. A warm one, I figured you might be cold.”

 

The Mendipian frowned at this kindness but gradly took the offered garment and hurried to put it on. He smiled, it was warm.

 

Paul found himself smiling as well, not that John could know. And then the prince remembered something. 

 

“Oh, here. I-I rescued this, for you.” Paul went to his satchel and took out the virgin’s circlet. 

 

John tensed as he felt something touch his head, but grew confused at the familiar feeling. He reached up to touch and gasped as he felt diamonds. “My circlet!” He narrowed his eyes, “Why would you give this to me?”

 

Paul continued on removing his armour, “Like I said. I will not touch you.”

 

The virgin sat in silence, untrusting and surprised. “Why? Others like you would not hesitate to take a virgin. Especially a prisoner.”

 

Paul sat down in one of his chairs, “I think you’ll find I’m not like those other men.”

 

There was a silence. Then from the Mendipian a whisper, “Will you ever let me go?”

 

Paul looked away from those sad eyes. “I have no control over the matter.” It was true, should the queen die then his father would take John and have him speak to the people as their new monarch. But if the queen survived then who knows what might happen to John, he’d probably remain a slave to Paul, who wasn’t too keen on the notion.

 

John scoffed, “How can you have no control over you own slave’s freedom?”

 

“You’re not just any slave, are you?” Paul took a swig from a glass of water a servant must have surely left for him. 

 

Said slave shook his head in disgust, “You’re a prince, you have power.”

 

Paul looked towards him, “Not with this, not yet, sorry.”

 

“So not just a murderer,” John sniffed, “But a coward as well.”

 

Paul was quick to stand and John tensed. He heard the other man get near him and he prepared himself to fight if he had too. In some of those old nights, Stu had taught him a few basic moves. Though he doubted they would be much against Allerton’s greatest warrior.

 

But Paul surprised him by offering a glass of water. “You must be thirsty.”

 

“I am not.” The virgin replied, clearly lying. 

 

Paul hummed, “Then I’ll leave it nearby,” He moved away, “You may have my bed, I’ll rest over here.”

 

John frowned, “Why are you being kind?”

 

The prince stopped, finally he spoke, “Because, priestess, you’ve lost it all. I can at least offer you some comfort while you sleep. I cannot promise your days will be easy.”

 

John accepted this with a thoughtful hum. As he crawled to where he felt furs he gathered his courage. When he had settled himself on the warm material he turned his head towards where he’d heard the prince’s voice from. “May I pray?” Perhaps, if he asked nicely, his captor would indulge him.

 

Paul frowned. He felt sorry for the man but still considered him a heretic, though he supposed it would do no harm. “Will you be loud?”

 

John chuckled, “No, our prayers are silent.”

 

Paul nodded, “Alright, then. Pray.”

 

John thanked him quietly and turned away. He bowed and closed his eyes.

 

Paul eyed him from his side of the tent. The virgin  _ was _ beautiful, he could not deny. Fair skin decorated by a few freckles, chin length auburn hair, and long nose that fitted his complexion, and a strong chin. He was thin, almost too thin, but tall as well. His back muscles flexed under the robe and Paul could see his shoulder blades shift. There was a feminine air to him, which was to be expected if he had lived his life surrounded only by women. He had a full bottom too, but Paul was quick to look away ashamed. 

 

He laid down and closed his eyes. His tent was well protected and Paul was a light sleeper, John would not be able to get away. Not that navigating through the messy tent would be easy for someone unable to see. 

 

He sighed thinking of what tomorrow would bring. Surely the news of a Mendipian virgin had spread amongst the men by now, they might come looking. He would have to think of a way to protect John, but he had duties too. It would be difficult. But for now he was tired and getting a headache, he needed sleep.

  
  
  



	3. Confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know George is not nice in this chapter but I promise he'll get better.  
> Thanks to everyone who leaves a comment, please continue to do so thank you again. Kudos are nice too but comments inspire me to keep going. 
> 
> And I've noticed that I make Paul screw up in both this and The Fool by the Seaside, but I figure since it tends to be John who usually hurts or scares or insults Paul in our fanfic world (except for a few precious amazing fics) I just wanna do it this way. I love fics that have that for angst, of course. But Imma keep doing this for right now.

Paul sighed as the sun shined down on him. He and the some other generals were overseeing the delivery of tribute from the leftover Mendipian citizens.  It was not going well, most of the people had little to give and what they did was worthless. They had no gold, no precious gems. They gave books, handheld mirrors, cloaks, heeled shoes, nothing special. 

 

The prince his father would be mad and would most likely take out his anger on these people, but there was nothing he could do. 

 

He thought about the man in his tent. John had been awake before him, humming a sad tune as he stared up at the ceiling of the tent. Paul had stared at him for a moment.

 

“See something interesting?” The priestess had asked him.

 

“What is that song?” Paul had asked.

 

John had closed his eyes, “A hymn, to honour Goddess.”

 

Paul had looked away, “Did you sing much at the temple?”

 

“Yes.” Had been the only answer.

 

“Did you dance?” Paul’d asked.

 

John had frowned, “To dance is undignified. We are virgins not carnival entertainers.”

 

Paul’d laughed, “Dancing is great fun.”

 

John had just shook his head. 

 

After that Paul had needed to leave, but what to do with John? In the end, he’d asked George to watch over him. 

 

“But do not touch him.” Paul had warned.

 

George’d laughed, “Don’t worry, he’s all yours, Paul.”

 

Knowing that this thought would probably maintain George’s self control, Paul had not corrected his assumption.

 

Now here Paul was, the sun beating his back, worrying about how everything was in the tent.

  
  


“I see you still have your crown.”

 

John did not turn to face his captive. He was laying down on the bed’s furs, pretending they were his own. Sir George had not spoken much, but he was still very annoying. He did not answer.

 

George glared, “Make you feel better, does it? False now, though.” He stepped closer to the huddled figure, “How did you enjoy last night?” George had grown up with this system, he saw nothing wrong with it. You were an enemy of Allerton, you had no rights, even more so if you were a heretic. 

 

John did not answer but gasped as he was grabbed with the arm and lifted up.

 

“I asked you a question, slave.” George growled. 

 

He received spit on the face as a response.

 

Disgusted, he slapped the priestess hard, making him fall to the ground. He then stepped on his ankle so that John could not move.

 

“Let go of me, beast!” John hissed.

But George was strong, and his foot did not give way. “I see you failed to learn some manners last night.”

 

“Nothing happened last night.” John retorted.

 

George frowned, “What do you mean?”

 

The virgin rolled his eyes, “What do you think, imbecile?”

 

George growled and lifted the thin man off the ground, “What did you call me?”

 

John smirked, “Imbecile.”

 

He was met with another harsh slap.

 

George cursed at Paul in his mind, why could his friend not follow tradition for once! He owned this virgin now. This John was quite fetching, why would he refuse to bed him?

 

His thoughts were interrupted by said prince entering the tent with great exhaustion. 

 

When Paul saw the position the two were in, John on the ground holding his face and George with his hand raised, he roared, “George! What have you done?”

 

John turned his head towards the voice and sighed in relief. 

 

George held up a hand, “He was being disrespectful.”

 

Paul ignored him and kneeled next to John, “Are you alright?” He asked with a tenderness that surprised even him.

 

John tensed at his closeness but nodded, though his face stinged and would probably bruise.

 

Paul glared up at George, “Your father is looking for you. Get out.”

 

George was baffled, “Paul, why are you-”

 

“Get out!” Paul saw John flinch at the loud sound and put a hand on his back in apology.

 

George frowned at the gesture but knew better than to stay. He left with a huff.

 

Paul sighed and turned to look at the virgin. “Are you hurt?” He asked again.

 

John offered a thin smile, “I’ve had worse.” He hadn’t, of course. Nobody had ever laid a hand on him until the day before, unless you counted Stu. But that had been a couple of years ago now, and his touch had been gentle.

 

Paul moved slightly away, “I have news of the queen.”

 

John sat up straight, “Does she live?” He hated how vulnerable he sounded.

 

Paul gave a weak smile, “Yes.”

 

John let out a relieved breath.

 

Paul’s smile fell, “King James is having her speak to your people, to get tribute.” Though from the collections of this morning, he doubted they had more to give.

 

At this John moved away, “Our kingdom has lost it all, you’ve burnt us down and now you want  _ more _ ?”

 

Paul looked away, “I have no control over it.”

 

John fumed, “You have the king’s ear! You could talk to him. How do you expect to be king if you cannot even stand up for what you believe in?”

 

The Prince stood up and moved away, “Don’t assume you know me, priestess. I know my place, don’t presume to know what goes on in my mind.”

 

John stood up as well, “I can see you’re different. You’ve protected me, clearly you disagree with your father’s methods.”

 

Paul was silent. 

 

John moved closer, his brown eyes swinging around the room. “You have power, Paul. Please, I beg you,” He kneeled and bowed down to Paul’s feet, “Have mercy for my people.”

 

Paul looked down at John, uncomfortable with this new attitude. “My father is set on his ways.”

 

John held back a sigh, “Take all from the royal vault, then. But leave the people alone. They are barely able to feed themselves as it is.” He’d heard snippets of conversation at the palace, and the Temple often held charitable dinners for the poor. Those dinners had grown bigger and bigger in the recent years. As a virgin, it was John’s duty to care for those who were sick and dying and had been delivered to the temple in preparation. He would sing to them, speak of Her glory, keep them comfortable. John had never much enjoyed spending time with the ill, but always made sure to show no discomfort in front of them, after all, he was healthy.

 

Paul looked at the circlet on top of his head, “Did your temple not enjoy great feasts and riches?”

 

John tensed, “The feasts were shared with the people. And Goddess deserves our every effort.”

 

“Is that why you virgins wear such fine attire?” Paul asked, “To impress her?”

 

John reached up to touch his circlet, “Yes. We are gifts to her, we must be well-attired.”

 

Paul sat down a bit farther away, “Gifts? Like you were to me?” This life that John had led sounded terrible to Paul’s ears.

 

John glared, “You are not a god, we are equals. You have no right to own a person.”

 

Paul nodded, “I know. But this Goddess of yours...why does she require so much from you?”

 

John laughed, “Goddess does not ask for much besides our purity, but we love her so we offer ourselves in such finery.”

 

Paul frowned and leaned back, “And what exactly do you offer yourselves for?”

 

John sighed, confused as to why an invader would care, but perhaps if Paul learned about Goddess he would see the light from his heretic ways. “We pray to her, four times a day. We sing her songs, we care for those who go to her, we assist Mother Priestesses in their duties in the temple. Only to her do we show ourselves, and eventually, of course, we are sacrificed to her.”

 

Paul started, “Sacrifice?” In the past, his own religion had had human sacrifices, but they had long since banned. There were special animals who were given to the gods, not people. 

 

John frowned at the outraged tone, “Yes.” He said, “Major Mother carries out the ceremony when a virgin reaches a certain age, it is a great honour.”

 

“What age?” Paul asked, morbidly curious.

 

John sighed, “Middle age, usually. Virgins must be young, we when grow too old we are sacrificed.”

 

“Does your goddess no longer find you pleasing?” Paul was certain now more than ever that those poor virgins were victims of this cruel religion.

 

John gave an amused laugh, “How could we expect her to?”

 

The prince was silent, what a poor creature, he thought. But he was stopped from voicing his thoughts by John’s despondent voice.

 

“Of course, now Major Mother is dead. Along with all the Mother Priestesses, and all my fellow virgins. I am the last one.” He looked down and closed his eyes tightly. John did not wish to cry, though he hadn’t yet. Crying wasn’t something accepted in the temple, why should a virgin ever complain. They were given everything. But John had always wanted more. He’d wanted to go outside, to fell the sand and the ocean, to touch a bird, to  _ see _ a bird. Oh how John had cursed at himself sometimes, why had he been cursed? Everyone mentioned the temple’s beauty, but John had never seen its walls or its paintings. He’d felt the statues and slipped on the marble floors, but he had no idea what they looked like, not really. But the Mother Priestesses rebuked him everytime he shed a tear, it was unworthy of a servant of Goddess. They reminded him, always, of how lucky he’d been that they had bended the rules to allow him, a male, to serve. And John was thankful, who knows where he would have ended up had the Temple not taken him in, and he followed all protocols and traditions, but sometimes, he just wanted to cry for days.

 

Paul felt sad for the man in front of him, but also confused, now John could live a full life! Without being sacrificed. He voiced this thought.

 

John gave a sardonic laugh, “Do you forget, oh majestic warrior, I am now a slave? You will not free me and yet you expect me to be happy?”

 

Paul was silent. “Once we are in Allerton I can give you a comfortable life.” That is, of course, if his father didn’t want anything with the priestess.

 

John shook his head, “No, don’t take me to Allerton. It is not my land.”

 

Paul put his head on his hands, getting frustrated, “I can’t stay here forever. Unless you want to be sold to someone else, you would have to come with me.” 

 

John shook his head, disgusted by the careless words. “Paul,” He said, daring to say the name, “Do you have any idea how you sound? You say you don’t want slavery, yet you will not question it or do anything about it!”

 

The Prince stood, “What would you have me do?”

 

John groaned, “ _ Free _ me. Give me to my people, let us recover from your invasion. You’ve taken everything, you can leave.”

 

Paul chuckled sadly, “You truly know nothing about war politics.”

 

“I know war is useless..cruel, makes murderers of even the best men.” John sneered, “You could just have peace.”

 

Paul let out a disbelieving breath, “It’s not that simple, priestess.”

 

John looked at him with pity, “How much thought do you really need to put into not killing innocent people?”

 

Paul grabbed a bottle of wine from his table with a sigh, “Peace will come eventually, for now, we fight. We fight for Allerton.”

 

John looked confounded and rather upset, “Peace is not something you wish for, it’s something you make.”

 

Paul was thrown by the words, but shook his head. “I may have the king’s ear, but he trusts his advisors above any other. And they do not share my views, nobody shares my views.”

 

John frowned, “So where did you get them from?”

 

Paul looked down, “My mother.”

 

John searched his memory, “The Late Queen Mary?” Years ago, when the Allertorians had attended some failed peace talks, the Temple had held a ceremony in her honour. 

 

Paul nodded, “Yes. She and my father often had arguments about slavery and other such topics. But after she died, my father would hear no more about it.”

 

John folded his hands, “I feel for your loss.”

 

Paul regarded him with surprise, “Thank you.”

 

John continued, “I never knew my mother. But I remember the service in her honour.”

 

Paul sat down next to him, “I feel for your loss.” He repeated.

 

John shrugged, “Not really my loss if I didn’t know her, was it?”

 

“She was your mother.” Paul said.

 

“I only found that out the day after the ceremony, that’s when they told me I was royalty.” John clenched his hands.

 

Paul frowned, “You had no idea?”

 

John shook his head, “No, I thought I was an orphan from a poor family.”

 

Paul pursed his lips in thought. Then after a few moments of silence he asked, “Are you hungry?”

 

John groaned, “Yes!”

 

Paul laughed, “Alright, I’ll go get you something.” He stood up.

 

John grabbed his leg, “Please, rice if you have it. It’s a virgin’s diet.”

 

Paul frowned, “Just rice?”

 

The virgin shrugged, “Vegetables?”

 

The prince nodded, “I’ll see what I can find.” Giving John something foreign would hardly be good for him, and the last thing Paul needed was a sick prisoner.

 


	4. The Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, two chapters in one day because I really don't want to study for my history final. You're welcome. Please comment and kudos if u haven't before. C8

John hummed as he brushed his hair with a comb Paul had gifted him. He was dressed in decent clothes now, Paul’s as well. A long shirt and a white cloak, similar to John’s virgin robe. He had not left the tent in the past few days for anything and he liked it that way. Paul would leave to complete his duties and John in turn would promise him to stay in the tent. That way George did not need to guard him. Plus, John knew he’d never make it far.

 

He put on his circlet and sighed. Paul had been kind by not touching him, but what if one day he grew mad? Would he rape John then? He was a confusing character, Paul. Clearly his head was a mess if he couldn’t make up his mind about what was good and what was bad.

 

Still, the Allertorian was a decent man, funny too, when they weren’t arguing. And generous, he’d given John clothes and combs and his bed, and even a journal. John had shared with the prince that occasionally he had been in charge of some of the artwork for the temple, little things. One of the Mother Priestesses had once told him that he had been blessed. Even without his eyesight he could still make beautiful art. 

 

The next day Paul had appeared with a journal, quills, and ink. John knew he most likely was doing it to appease John and to get him used to the idea of being a prisoner, but he’d take it anyways. It was either that or die of boredom. 

 

He grabbed the journal and counted the pages to get to a blank one, what to draw? He’d drawn some people, flowers, trees, stars, simple things. Suddenly he was struck with the desire to draw Paul, but John had no idea what he looked like and he wasn’t about to ask. 

 

He was trying to come up with an idea when he heard the entrance flap. “Paul?” He asked, always weary that it might be some unknown soldier.

 

“Yes, it’s me.” Paul said as he started to undo his armbands, “It’s really hot outside, how can you survive this weather?”

 

John shrugged, “You get used to it, is Allerton cold?”

 

Paul nodded, “Very.”

 

“I suppose I’ll find out when you take me there, won’t I?” John asked in a murmur, rubbing his hands together.

 

Paul stopped what he was doing, “John…”

 

The virgin didn’t speak.

 

Paul sighed, “There’s nothing to do, I’m afraid.”

 

John wanted to argue, again, that Paul  _ could _ do something, but he was tired of the same old argument over and over again. Instead he just sighed and laid down.

 

“I have news of the Queen.” Paul said, hoping to light John’s mood.

 

John sat up, “How’s Mimi?”

 

Paul smiled, having learned by now that Mimi was John’s nickname for Queen Mary Elizabeth, “Getting stronger every day, some generals will be staying here to oversee she follows my father’s instructions when we leave.”

 

John’s face turned sour, “When do we leave?”

 

Paul looked down, “In two days.”

 

John gasped, “Two days!?”

 

“Yes, I was just told.” Paul said. “I will make sure you can go in my wagon.”

 

“With the rest of your possessions, you mean.” John responded, feeling angry and afraid about what the future would bring.

 

Paul sighed, “It’ll be safer for you.”

 

John laid down again, “How long is the trip?”

 

The prince knew John wasn’t going to be happy, “We’re going by land, so..about twenty days.”

 

John let out an outraged and disbelieving breath, “You expect me to be stuck in a wagon for twenty days?”

 

“It’s either that or you walk, what do you prefer, priestess?” Paul was getting tired of John’s moods. But then again, he was being moved against his will. However, Paul was being kind, offering his wagon. John would just have to endure the difficulties of his new life.

 

John hugged the furs close to his chest, “The wagon.”

 

“That’s what I thought.” Paul said and laid down on his side of the tent. “Are you going to pray?” For some reason, Paul asked that every night.

 

“I have to, don’t I?” Was the answer.

  
  


Finally the day had come. The Allertorian troops were leaving Mendip Hill, leaving only two small regiments behind to keep the ‘peace.’

 

There were servants packing up Paul’s belongings as John knelt near the entrance, deep in thought. 

 

He was interrupted by the sound of Paul’s entrance. 

 

“You ready?” The prince asked him.

 

John only hummed in response.

 

Paul sighed and looked around, “Listen, there’s something I need to ask of you and you will not like it.”

 

John’s head snapped up, “You won’t take my clothes, surely?”

 

Paul was quick to reassure him, “No, no. Don’t worry, you can keep them. But there is the issue with your circlet.”

 

The virgin’s hands went up to touch it protectively. “Why would you take it?”

 

“The fact that the men think I’ve taken you is one of the thing’s protecting you.” Paul explained, “If they see you’re still a virgin, it would complicate things. Also,” He continued, “my father does not know I have given it back to you, it would displease him.”

 

John groaned, “Does your father control every aspect of your life?”

 

Paul shrugged, “He is the King.” Was his answer.

 

John shook his head at him, but reached up to take it off. “You will give it back to me?” He asked as he felt Paul reach out to take it.

 

Paul nodded, “You have my word.”

 

John let go.

  
  


King James I laughed as he saw his son walk out, slave on tow. “You haven’t told me, son. How was the virgin?”

 

John glowered but did not speak, Paul had warned him not to test the king’s temper today.

 

Paul forced a smile, “He’d talented, father.”

The surrounded me laughed, except for George, who could see that Paul was lying through his teeth.

 

But Sir Pete had no such problem, “I don’t suppose you’d let us have a go?” He looked at John with hungry eyes, “He is exquisite.”   
  


Seeing John’s uncomfortable stance, Paul tensed. “I don’t think so.” He was quick to answer. 

 

There was a deep silence interrupted by the King’s laugh, but he stopped when he saw the slave’s hands were free. In fact one of them was on his son’s arms, Paul had been guiding him. “Now, what is this? Guards!” He called, “Bind the slave.” They hurried to act. “Paul, you know protocol, all slaves will be bound as they walk.”

 

Paul saw how John struggled as his hands were taken and tightly bound with rough rope that would surely injure his delicate skin. “Actually, sire,” He said, “I was hoping to put him in my wagon.”

 

King James frowned, “Whatever for?”

 

Paul floundered, “Because...I’ll get there will be long nights of rest, and I don’t want to have to look for him amongst all the others.” He forced a laugh, “I’m afraid I’ve grown rather possessive of the priestess.” And he grabbed John by the middle and moved him close to him.

 

John winced, this was embarrassing. But he knew Paul was doing it just so John could be safe during the journey.

 

King James laughed and the others followed, “Well, son, I’m glad to see you have changed your ways. Of course I’ll grant your wish.” He pointed to some squires, “You! Take this slave to my son’s wagon. Make sure it’s,” He chuckled, “Comfortable.”

 

The squires laughed, clearly understanding.

 

But John and Paul didn’t. John frowned as he was dragged away and reached out to touch Paul, but the prince could do nothing but laugh along. 

  
  


They had been traveling for hours now. Paul could see his wagon if he turned and looked past all the bored and tired faces. Near the back there were some soldiers singing some tune about victory and money, but up here next to the king everyone was ready to start a fight just for some entertainment. King James was in his carriage with his mistress, Angela. 

 

Meanwhile, John was naked again. Paul had lied, his clothes had been taken from him by the squires. He wondered if they were still in the wagon.

 

A fur had been laid at one end of the wagon, in a very small face, then John’s elbows, wrists, knees, and ankles had been tied, leaving him completely immobile. 

 

He’d been laid on the fur and then covered by another, a thinner one. He just hoped a break would come soon and Paul would come and free him.

 

John felt his eyes growing wet and he cursed at himself. He would not cry, he refused to cry. But the rope was cutting into his skin and he was cold and naked and he’d never felt more ashamed. Why had this happened to him? He was starting to wish he had been at the temple when they’d massacred all the priestesses. 

 

He felt a tear run down his cheek and fall into the fur below him. He bowed his head and allowed a sob to escape him. Another soon followed and soon he found himself weeping freely for the first time in years. 

  
  


Paul’s steps were heavy with exhaustion as he marched towards his wagon. They had finally stopped after over a full day of marching, and he’d been worried about John the entire trip, not knowing what his father had meant with ‘comfortable.’ 

 

He paused to knock on the door but frowned when he heard soft sounds from inside. He leaned in, was John...moaning? No, it couldn’t be. He opened the door and peered inside, at first he couldn’t see anything but eventually spotted a lump near the back. 

 

He walked towards it, He could see John laying down face down, a rather uncomfortable position, and he could see him shaking. “John?” Paul asked.

Immediately, the shaking stopped and the virgin snapped his head up. “Paul!” He cried. 

 

It was with this movement that Paul noticed his lack of movement, he knelt down in the small space and hesitantly removed the fur covering him. He cursed when he saw John’s body. He looked at the virgin’s face and saw the teartracks. He hurried into action, “Fuck, I’m sorry, John.” He untied his elbows and moved on to the wrists, “I didn’t know they would do this, I promise.” The virgin’s wrists were bleeding and his hands felt weak. 

 

John hugged himself with his free arms, “I waited for you.” He gasped, “They took my clothes, they touched me and bound me and you said they wouldn’t!”

 

Paul was having trouble with the rope around John’s knees, “I know, but John I promise I didn’t know.” He tugged harshly at the knot and John flinched in pain. Cursing, Paul moved on to the ankles. 

 

After those had been freed Paul moved away to where he could see the robe and cloak bundled up. He grabbed them and offered them to John, “Here, your clothes.”

 

John was quick to grab them and try to put them on. The robe was thin and cold but the softer cloak helped him warm up. 

 

Paul reached for one of his daggers, “I’m gonna have to cut this one.” He said as he tugged at the rope around the priestess’ knees. 

 

John shrugged shakily, “Do anything, just do it.”

 

Paul was careful but quick as he cut the rope.

 

As soon as he did, John drew them up to his chest and laid his head on them. The virgin started to sob again. 

 

Paul sat there for a moment, at doubt of how to continue. Eventually he couldn’t handle the sights of the weeping man any more so he moved closer and took him into his arms. 

 

John tensed immediately but soon relaxed and allowed himself to sob into Paul’s shoulder. “Why did this happen to me?” He wailed.

The prince looked down. He knew the answer of course. Allerton had wanted money and riches and Mendip Hill had plenty, or so they had thought. John had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

 

He just held the virgin closer, “I’m sorry, John.”

 

There was silence except for John’s sniffled. But then, he spoke, “Let me go.”

 

Paul moved away, confused.

 

John shook his head, “No. Let me  _ go _ .”

 

The prince sighed, “I already told you, it’s complicated-”

 

“No!” John rebuked, “It’s dark right now, nobody suspects anything. Open the door and let me go.”

 

“We’re in the middle of nowhere, priestess.” Paul reminded him. “How exactly do you expect to get anywhere, especially blind?”

 

“I know my limitations, warrior.” John responded. 

 

“It’s dangerous out there, something could happen to you.”

 

“Something already did.” The virgin hissed and gestured to his bruised and bleeding body. 

 

Paul looked away, “No, I can’t.” He knew what would happen if John was caught. If he wasn’t killed then surely he would be branded and taken to the work slaves. He’d die soon with such a delicate composition.

 

“Why!?” John screamed. “Just let me go!”

 

Paul stood up. “No, you’re safer here.”

 

John stood up on shaking legs and showed his bloody wrists, “No, I’m not!”

 

Paul shushed him, “You’ll wake up the guards.”

 

The priestess felt the crates around him and threw what appeared to be a vase at the prince, “Good!”

 

Paul dodged the oil lamp and hurriedly moved to grab the angry Mendipian and cover his mouth. Angry, Paul shook him a little and squeezed his face without thinking as he said, “Be quiet! If they think you’re a disturbance they’ll kill you! Why can’t you be calm for one day!”

 

The virgin did nothing.

 

Paul was breathing heavily as he looked down at his captive. The virgin’s eyes were wide, fearful and shocked. Fearful of Paul. Shocked at his violence. The prince suddenly became aware that he had a tight grip John’s lower back and had made the other’s knees bend. Then he stared at the hand squeezing the other’s face, a cruel red mark was left as he took it away. 

 

“Oh gods,” He said, “Shit, John I’m so sorry!” He immediately moved away, leaving the priestess to fall to the ground with a loud thud. Paul knelt down next to him, “I’m sorry,” He reached to help the virgin up but John flinched away. 

 

He started to crawl away. “I’ll be quiet, please I promise.” He curled up in the furs, “Please don’t rape me, your highness. I’ll be quiet.”

 

Paul sat back. Shit, he’d made John go back to his frightened shell, but this was worse than before. “John, I will not touch you.”

 

There was no response. 

 

The prince stared at the huddled figure and sighed. “I’ll make sure nobody comes in for the remainder of the trip, alright? I won’t come in either, just to bring you food.”

 

John didn’t give him a verbal answer, he just nodded jerkily. 

 

Paul cursed himself. He’d truly fucked it up.


	5. Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so warning there is violence in this chapter and more hurt! John. Thanks to everyone for their comments and kudos, please leave more if you like this chapter.
> 
> And yes, Jim McCartney is evil in this story, I think he was great guy and I don't mean to disrespect him but this is fanfic, cool?

 

A few more days had passed since the incident. Paul hadn’t spoken to John at all other than to give him some food, though he wasn’t allowed to give him much. John was getting even thinner than before, and it worried Paul.

 

They were getting closer to Allerton’s capital, Forthlin, and had encountered minimal problems. 

 

If only it could have stayed that way.

 

They were crossing a long bridge that went over a wide lake, too wide to go around without wasting two more days. Paul had crossed already when he started to hear some shouts from the back of the caravan. Then he heard the blow of a horn, they were under attack!

 

As the royal carriage sped away with a group of soldiers around it, the bandits started to get on the bridge. Paul took out his sword and galloped back with his men. He cursed when he saw his wagon right at the middle of the bridge, John was danger. 

 

Meanwhile, John had heard the alarmed shouts and was growing agitated himself. His wagon stopped moving and he stood up in confusion. Slowly, he walked to where he knew the entrance to be but jumped back when it was thrown open with a slam. “Paul?” He asked. 

 

A rough unfamiliar voice answered him, “Well lookey here, boys. What a pleasant surprise.”

 

John moved back but stumbled into a crate, “Who are you?”

 

“None of yer business, puppet.” The voice answered, it was getting closer. 

 

John winced as a cold hand grabbed his leg, “Let go!”

 

The hold tightened, “I don’t think so, puppet.” He picked John up and effortlessly threw him over his shoulder, “You’ll make a fine addition to my collection.”

 

John started kicking, why did things like this keep happening to him? “Paul!” He screamed, “PAUL!” He knew nobody but the prince would help him. 

 

Paul tensed as he heard his name being called, he got off his horse and ran deeper into the bridge, cutting bandits down as he went.

 

He was in the process of stabbing a man’s leg when he saw John thrown over a huge man’s shoulder like a sack of carrots. “John!”

 

The priestess smiled and kicked with renewed strength.

 

The bandit holding him was getting angry, “Stop moving.” He slapped the virgin’s arse harshly.

 

John gasped and tugged at the bandits long hair making him wail in pain. 

 

Meanwhile, Paul was getting closer. His opponent at the moment was a heavy woman that was giving him a run for his money with that sword of hers. 

 

“Let the boy go, Phil!” She shouted, “He’d not worth it!”

 

The bandit, Phil, turned around and grew frightened at the sight of his second in command get cut down by the fierce Allertorian warrior. He cursed and grabbed his captive by the waist, the thin boy struggling still. He started to walk towards the edge of the bridge.  

 

Paul jumped over a fallen horse and raised his bloody sword, “Let him go.”

 

The bandit smiled, “Alright, then.” And he dropped John over the edge and into the water. 

 

“No!” Paul yelled and ran to the edge, he looked down, there was no sight of John. Meanwhile, Phil and his crew retreated.

 

John hit the water with a splash and immediately went down. The current wasn’t terribly strong but it dragged him around away from the bridge. He fought against it but he had never learned how to swim and he felt his body rub against some rocks. He pushed against them but the water threw him against them and he felt a great pain echo around his head then felt no more.

* * *

 

The next time he woke he was in an unfamiliar setting. The bed below him was soft and warm, and he felt silk sheets caress his skin. Slowly, he started to move his head but gasped in pain at the action. He raised a weak hand to feel his head and discovered a bandage around it. 

 

The noise of a chair moving back startled him, “Who’s there?”

 

“It’s me, Paul.” 

 

John felt the bed dip with Paul’s weight. “Where am I?”

 

“My chambers. We’re in Forthlin.” Paul grabbed one of John’s hands, “You were unconscious for days, the healers almost gave up on you.”

 

John frowned, “What happened?”

 

“You hit a rock when that bandit dropped you into the water, I jumped after you.” Paul stifled a cough, the water had been cold and it had taken him awhile to find the priestess. His father had not been pleased.

 

John turned his hand so that their palms were touching, “Thank you. For saving me.”

 

Paul shook his head, “Least I could do, it was my fault you were there in the first place.”

 

John didn’t argue, he was right. “Still.” He said, “Thank you.”

 

Paul smiled, “I have some food, are you hungry?”

 

The virgin’s stomach answered for him. 

 

“Guess that’s a yes, then.” Paul said with a laugh and stood up. “Rice and vegetables, coming right up. Also, the healers left you a tea, should sooth your headache.”

 

“Ta.” John answered as he struggled to sit up. He was happy to find that he was dressed, in a soft robe of what felt like satin. 

 

Paul returned from speaking with the servant and sat down again, “John…”

 

The priestess smiled, “Yes?”

 

Paul looked away from the smile, “The bandits, they took your circlet.”

 

John’s smile fell, “Oh.” He said.

 

Paul grabbed his hand, “I’ll have a new one made, somehow. I-”

 

“No.” John interrupted him. “It wouldn’t be the same.” He whispered. 

 

Paul sighed. “Alright. I have some things to do,” He continued. “I’ll let you rest.”

 

John nodded and laid down again, forgetting all about the food. He was asleep in no time. 

 

* * *

 

A hand on his cheek woke him up. He flinched away but a grip on his chin made him hold still. “Paul?” He asked, confused. The hand felt bigger and coarser. 

 

“My son is otherwise occupied at the moment.” An arrogant voice answered him. 

 

John gasped and tensed. Another hand on his chest stopped him from sitting up.

 

King James kept talking, “You see..John, is it? My son risked his life the other day, almost got killed and then got ill, because of you.” 

 

John said nothing. 

 

The King moved his head a bit to the right, “And I wonder, why? You’re a simple slave, why is my son so attached?”

 

John shrugged, “I do not know.”

 

“Then we’ll find out together.” The King said, and abruptly dragged the man out of the bed. 

 

John struggled, but The King was very tall and strong. He deposited the virgin a few paces away.

 

John had trouble standing on his own and quickly collapsed into the carpet. 

 

“Strip.” Came the swift command.

 

John frowned, “What?”

 

The kind was sitting in one of his son’s velvet couches, “I’ve not yet had the pleasure to see your body, strip.”

 

The priestess did not move.

 

The King was growing impatient, “Has my son taught you no manners? I am your king, you will do as I say.”

 

John shook his head, “King George is my king.” He hissed.

 

James stood, he was fuming. “King George is  _ dead _ .”

 

“A great king never dies.” John answered, “He lives on in his people’s hearts. You, will not.” He was grabbed by the hair and he shrieked in pain.

 

King James dragged him towards a table, “I see my son has yet to break you, that’s alright. A father is always willing to help his son.”

 

John felt the satin robe be ripped at the back after he was dropped next to a furniture of some kind. His hands were grabbed and tied to a table leg with a strip of that same satin. 

 

He heard rustling behind him and was just about to speak when a harsh blow to his back made him scream.

 

King James had his belt in hand and he struck again. And again. And again. And again. 

 

John had never felt such agony, his back felt like it was on fire. “Stop! Please, STOP!”

 

The King paid him no mind and kept going.

* * *

 

Paul was just coming back from the military offices, signing letters letting families know that their sons would not be coming back. That was never fun. And his cold was getting worse, he’d been coughing all damn day. There were some letters that also required a signature from the King, but his father was nowhere to be see. He turned the corner into the royal family wing and stopped a servant that was walking away, seemingly alarmed. 

 

“Have you seen the king?” He asked with a hand on her shoulder. 

 

The woman was looking down, “No, sir. I mean, yes, sir.” 

 

Paul frowned, “Which one is it?”

 

She nodded.

 

The prince raised an eyebrow, “Where is he, then?”

 

“In your chambers, sir.” She whispered. 

 

Paul frowned, what would his father want in his- Shit. He let go of the servant and practically ran towards his room. As he got nearer his heart stopped when he heard agonized screams echo off the walls. Reaching the door, he burst inside. 

 

A horrifying sight met him. John was on the ground, his arms tied to a table leg, with tears falling from his clenched eyes. He kept on screaming and begging for Paul’s father to stop. The King was whipping him with his thick leather belt, his face red and almost in a trance. There was blood running down John’s back.

 

Paul ran forwards and took ahold of his father’s hand. “Stop!”

 

The King struggled for a moment before he realized who had stopped him. “Son?”

 

“Look what you’ve done!” Paul knelt next to John, who was trying to curl into a ball without hurting his back and failing. 

 

The King looked down and his eyes took in the sobbing prisoner. He was mildly shocked at his own anger but figured it really wasn’t anything to be so agitated about. He laughed, “Apologies for damaging your slave, son. I guess I was angrier than I thought.” 

 

Paul looked up at him, he stared at his father with barely hidden disgust. “Sir Albert is looking for you, sire.” He said in a low voice.

 

The King sighed, “Yes, I suppose I should sigh those letters.” He looked at the slave with amusement, “Just make sure you don’t take him on his back, it’ll take them longer to heal.” Then he walked away.

 

Paul stared at him as he left. Was this his father? Had this always been his father? Paul stayed away from all the business about slavery, and now he regretted it. All those years defending his father...for this? So that John could be bleeding in his arms, howling in pain?

 

Immediately, Paul acquire a bowl with water and some towels. He’d untied John and gently deposited him back on the bed. Carefully, he started to dab at his wounds. 

 

John whimpered at the contact but remained still. 

 

Paul had had to get another two towels and another bowl of water to finish cleaning John’s back, but finally they were done. “I’ll get you another robe.” Paul said as he stood up and went to his wardrobe. 

 

John’s head was buried in the pillow and in his arms. After a while, he spoke. “Let me go.” 

 

Paul didn’t hear him well, “What?”

 

John raised his head, “Just let me go,  _ please _ .”

 

Paul paused in his movements. He selected a longer robe made of chiffon layers and walked out into the room. “Okay.” He said.

 

The virgin frowned, “What?”

 

Paul sat down next to him, “I said, okay. I should have never taken you from your home. I am so sorry.”

 

John could not believe his ears, “Seriously? You will let me go?”

 

The prince nodded, “Yes. I will arrange passage for you to go into the mountains, there are people there who can take you in.”

 

John shook his head, “I must go back to Mendip Hill.”

 

Paul sighed, “The city is still under the King’s control. If you go back there they will either send you back or kill you.”

 

John was still, “How remote are the mountains?”

 

“You will never have to hear about me or Allerton ever again, I can promise you that.” Paul assured him.

 

But John was shaking his head. “Then I stay.”

 

The prince’s head snapped up, “What?”

 

“If I don’t hear about you,” The priestess explained, “Then I don’t hear about home, and I couldn’t bear that.”

 

Paul knew the man had a point. “But, here you will be a slave. I can’t free you.” 

 

John slowly grabbed the chiffon robe, “Then protect me. Protect me and bring me news of my home, that is all I ask.”

 

Paul looked at the beautiful man in front of him, seeing him struggle to turn around, Paul helped into the new robe. “Alright, then. I will do everything I can to keep you safe and comfortable, and I will tell you all I learn about Mendip Hill.”

 

John laid back down, he offered a pained smile, “I thank you.” And he made himself try and sleep. He would surely have nightmares, but he could handle them. He always had before.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is short but stuff happens, and its happy. Will be for a while, I don't want Johnny to keep on suffering.

Paul walked with a purpose towards his chambers, he’d heard from Mendip Hill and wanted to share the news with John. He nodded at a pair of bowing knights and entered his chamber. 

 

“John?” He called when he saw the empty bed, worried for a moment that his father had come back. 

 

“In here!” Came John’s voice from beyond the entrance into the bathing room. 

 

Paul walked towards the room but stopped at the curtain, “May I come in?”

 

“Yes.” John answered him, “I need you help, actually.” 

 

Paul walked in to the sight of John’s bare body resting in the bath, the air smelling of oils and soaps. 

 

John smiled hesitantly, “Your maid helped me in, I hope you don’t mind.” She had been very kind, Cynthia, she’d said she was called. She’d given him all sorts of oils and made sure the water was warm, but she’d had to leave for the kitchens. 

 

Paul smiled, Cyn was very kind and shared his views on slavery. “Of course not. You said you needed my help.”

 

John started to stand up, “Yes, could you pass me my robe, please?” He pointed in the general direction at his right. 

 

The robe was actually in the other side of the room and Paul chuckled as he grabbed it, but coughed as he turned back around. There was John, coming out of the bath, completely bare and looking absolutely captivating. 

 

John shivered in the cold air, “Paul?” 

 

The prince snapped out of it and moved closer, “I, yes. Here.” He dressed John with the robe gently.

 

The virgin smiled in thanks and started to walk towards the entrance, “I thought you were going to be busy all day.” He opened the conversation. 

 

Paul grinned, “I’ve heard from Mendip Hill.”

 

John gasped and turned abruptly, making himself slip on the smooth floor. Had Paul not catched him, he’d have gained another bruise. 

 

Paul’s breaths were slow as he gazed at the virgin’s fair face. Their noses were touching and their heads had bumped together. “Careful.” He whispered. 

 

John shivered, not at the cold air nipping his toes, but at the other’s breaths caressing his face. Without meaning to, he dragged his arm from where it was resting on Paul’s shoulder to his chest where he felt firm muscle. “Sorry.”

 

Paul shook his head, “S’okay.”

 

John coughed but stayed put, he raised his other hand. “Could I…”He swallowed, and gestured to Paul’s head. 

 

The prince frowned, “You want to touch my face?”

 

John blushed, “Only if you do not mind, it’s nothing really...intimate.” It was, in a way, it wasn’t like John went around touching people’s faces whenever he met them. He’d touched a couple of his fellow virgins who were his friends, Major Mother, his half-sisters, and Mimi. He’d never dared to touch another man, much less Stu. But Paul meant something to him now, and it would be helpful if John had a more clear idea of what he ‘looked’ like. 

 

Paul nodded, “I, yes. Of course.”

 

John stood up straight and gently raised his hand.  He felt Paul’s hair first, it was soft and slightly greasy with some oil or another. Then he moved on to Paul’s forehead, he giggled as he touched his eyebrows.

 

Paul smiled, “What is it?”

 

“They’re so  _ arched _ .” John kept on giggling as he moved down.

 

“Ow!” Paul exclaimed as his eye was poked, but he was still smiling. 

 

John apologized then frowned, “Are these your lashes? They’re so long.” He gently pulled at them. 

 

Paul poked him in the ribs, “Yours aren’t hard to miss either, y’know.”

 

John shrugged, “I like them.” He raised his other hand and felt Paul’s cheeks now, they were soft and...squishy, yes squishy. 

 

Paul groaned as his cheeks were played with. “Oi!”

 

John stopped, “Sorry. It’s just they’re quite…”

 

“Fat?” Paul looked down, people always made fun of him for his ‘puppy fat’ even his father, greatest warrior or not. 

 

John frowned, “Not at all, they’re just soft.” There was also some stubble that was foreign to John, he’d never felt it on a person’s face before. Not even his own, Major Mother made sure he didn’t grow facial hair and gave him some concoction that tasted horrible but kept him free of body hair. All virgins took it, only females took less. He wondered when its effects would start to wear off, it had surely been over a week since he’d last taken it. 

 

He moved on to  Paul’s nose, it was small compared to John’s and pointed upwards. His chin was firm but slightly round, and John could feel more stubble there, longer. “Do you have a beard?”

 

Paul chuckled, “I’ve not really remembered to shave recently, I’ll do it in a minute-”

 

“No, keep it!” John interrupted him but then bowed, “I, it’s just…” His hands faltered. 

 

Paul rubbed his side slowly, “Hey, it’s okay.” He moved his face close to the hands again, “I’ll keep it.”

 

John smiled despite himself, it was just very interesting to feel hair on a person’s face. He kept on exploring, and his breath stuttered as he felt the mouth. It reminded him of Stu’s own admiration for his own, and curiously, John started exploring it. 

 

Paul’s heart skipped a beat at the almost sensual gesture, but he knew that John was just curious so he stayed still. However, his tongue darted out in a nervous tick to lick his lips and ended up liking John’s finger’s instead. 

 

John jumped back at the odd feeling. 

 

The prince swallowed, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to lick you.” What the hell kinda sentence was that? “My lips were dry and...I’m sorry.”

 

John offered a nervous smiled, “Forget about it.” He turned away and headed to where he knew the bed was. Cynthia had told him that she’d left a change of clothes there. “What was that about Mendip Hill?”

 

Paul watched him go, “Oh, yes. It appears that a part of the population has escaped the city, the advisors believe that they had the help of Sir Richard.”

 

John grinned, “Oh, that’s wonderful!” He shrugged on the tunic Cynthia had left for him, making sure he had the front and back in place. 

 

Paul smiled with him, “They were mostly children and elder citizens.” He was glad they wouldn’t have to suffer under the treatment his father was raining upon the city, for reasons that he didn’t want to understand. He was a loyal warrior, why then was he glad for this tactical danger?

 

The virgin heard the smiled in Paul’s voice. “You’re a good man, Prince Paul.” 

 

Paul looked down, “I’m sorry you could not be with them.”

 

John sighed, “So am I.” Then he shrugged, “But this isn’t so bad, at least your father is staying away.” He winced afterwards, but relaxed as he heard Paul laugh. 

 

Paul laughed because he was glad as well, his father still wasn’t back in his good books after his horrid actions. 

 

John frowned as he felt something made of what seemed like stone in the bed, “Paul, what is this?” He held it up, it was quite heavy. 

 

Paul looked up and gasped. The diadem was made of white gold alloy and decorated with moonstones. He knew it well, it had belonged to his mother. He’d kept it in his wardrobe all this time, it was no surprise Cynthia knew about it and he had a clue as to why she took it out, even if a part of him was upset for offering it so. “It is a diadem.”

 

John continued feeling it, it resembled his own in a away though without the silver threads falling from it. “I did not ask Cynthia to find one, is it yours?”

 

Paul’s eyes were wet, “It was my mother’s.”

 

John was quick to set it back down on the bed, “Oh, I apologize, Paul. I don’t know why Cynthia thought to bring it out, I didn’t ask her to.” 

 

Paul shook his head, “I know why.” He’d shared with her the fact that despite the army’s beliefs, he hadn’t touched John. She had been proud of him and asked about the infamous virgin circlet Mendip Hill’s religion was known for. Paul had told her about it being stolen, and she’d said nothing. “She knows about the loss of your circlet.”

 

John sat on the bed and held out the diadem, “This belonged to your mother, I have no claim to it.”

 

Paul took it from his hands, but instead of going to put it back in his wardrobe, he gently placed it on John’s head. “She would like you having it, I’m sure.” And he was, his mother had always been kind to slaves, giving them extra food and warmer clothes. 

 

John smiled at the familiarity of having a circlet (of sorts) around his head, it reminded him slightly of home. “Thank you, I’ll take good care of it.”

 

Paul brushed aside a lock of hair, “I know you will.” He stepped back, “I have to go back to my duties, will you be alright?”

 

John nodded, disappointed but unwilling to show it, “Yes, Cynthia said she would be back later with supper.”

 

“I will try to join you.” Paul promised as he left. 

 

John was left with a soft feeling in his chest.

 


	7. Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay update.

It had been two months since John had arrived to Allerton and it got easier everyday. He never left Paul’s chambers, which unknown to him, caused many lewd rumours to rise around court. He grew closer to Cynthia, who was fascinated by stories of Mendip Hill and by his religion. Paul made sure to have supper with him everyday, even if his father questioned it, and he’d also started to spend time with John musically. Paul had learned to play the lute when he was very young and he loved it, and he’s been having little duos with John singing. Paul’s even considered teaching John the art, but music tended to remind John of his fellow virgins now dead and buried, so the mood never lasted long.

 

John had grown accustomed to wearing the diadem, which is why he grew slightly upset at Paul’s desire for him to take it off. 

 

The prince bit his lip, “You can wear it inside, but outside you’ll attract attention and my father will surely find out.”

 

John crossed his arms from his position in one of Paul’s half sofas, “I don’t understand why must go outside, I’m happy here.” And he was happy, lonely perhaps and melancholic, but also happy when Paul or Cynthia came in. 

 

Paul smiled, “I know you are, but there’s something I want you to, to feel.”

 

The virgin was intrigued, “What is it?”

 

The prince sat down next to him, “Well, it’s a surprise, innit?”

 

John was quiet for a moment, then he nodded. “Alright, but I’ll get it back, yes?” His hesitancy to wear it had long faded, it reminded him of what he had once had and gave him a certain amount of comfort.

 

“Of course.” Paul assured and stood up, he went to his closet, “Are you wearing something warm?”

 

The virgin shook his head, his thin robe kept him covered and wasn’t terribly heavy, different from most of Paul’s clothing. “Is it cold outside?”

 

Paul grabbed a pair of trousers, a good pair of boots, a warmer blue robe, and a white cloak with fur on the edges. “Very.”

 

* * *

 

John’s feet felt buried on the pair of boots, virgins never wore covered shoes, they mostly walked barefoot and occasionally wore sandals when they went outside the temple, usually on rounds to feed the poor or in burial proceedings or, in John’s special case, when they needed to hide out in the royal palace. 

 

Paul had a gentle hand on his back, looking out for anyone who might appear and question their actions. Finally, they reached a garden and Paul opened the door for John. 

 

John shivered when the fierce cold air hit him and he held on tighter to the cloak, “Goddess!” he exclaimed, “How do you survive in this weather?”

 

Paul chuckled, “We manage, now come on.” He stepped outside. 

 

John frowned but followed, “What is it?” He heard a crunch below his feet. 

 

The prince’s voice came from below him, “Kneel.”

 

John gasped, “What?” What was Paul doing? Were there other people around? Were they looking at him, mocking him? Why should he kneel?

 

Noticing John’s agitated mood, Paul stood up and moved closer. He grabbed John’s hand and held it tight, “I’m sorry, nothing’s wrong, John. Please, just humour me.” He guided the other man down slowly. “You can trust me.”

 

John’s nod was interrupted by gasp at what he felt, “Is this...snow?” He brushed the ground.

 

Paul smiled enthusiastically, “Yes!”

 

John put his other hand down and knelt down properly, “I, I can’t believe it.” He’d never touched snow, he’d felt sand on other people’s clothes and and hands, but snow? It was unknown to him. “Is it shining and white? Do the flakes have shapes?”

 

Paul started to make a ball, “Yes, they’re all different individuals.” He stood up, “Do you want to play a game?”

 

John frowned, “A game?” His answer was a ball of snow hitting his side, he gasped, “Paul!”

 

Paul laughed, “Come on, it’s your turn.”

 

John shook his head, “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

 

The prince made another ball and grabbed John’s hand, “Here, throw this at me.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because it’s fun!”

 

“It’s violent.”

 

“It’s just a little bit of snow, John.” Paul sighed, “But we don’t have to play if you don’t want to.” He stood up and started to walk towards the entrance, but a cold ball hitting his back stopped him. He turned to see John with his hand raised and a shy smile on his face. 

 

The virgin laughed softly, “I hit you, didn’t I?”

 

Paul laughed along, “Yes, now it’s my turn.”

 

They spent the next few hours acting like young children, Paul throwing ball after ball with expect accuracy, but John’s hearing gave him the benefit of knowing exactly where Paul was. They squealed and leaped and ran and laughed, John could not remember the last time he’d have so much fun. Virgins didn’t play games, they didn’t run around, and John couldn’t believe he’d never questioned it. 

 

After a long while, both of them collapsed to the cold ground, unknowingly gravitating towards one another. 

 

“Paul?” The virgin spoke.

 

The prince hummed in response.

 

John moved his hand slowly to where he figure Paul’s was and slowly, giving Paul plenty of time to move away, entangled their fingers together. “Thank you.”

 

Paul’s eyes had opened and he was now looking at their joined hands, they fit together perfectly like it was meant to be. “Don’t mention it, John. It was the least I could do.”

 

A sudden shiver overcame John and he started to cough.

 

Paul sat up, “Are you alright?” He asked in a worried tone. 

 

John nodded but the shivers wrecking his thin frame said otherwise.

 

Paul helped him up, never letting go of his hand, “Let’s get you to bed, you’re not used to this cold and I don’t want you to get sick.”

 

* * *

 

Of course John was sick. Cynthia had lectured Paul on taking the young man outside with this weather, ignoring any comments of self-defense. 

 

Right now John was sleeping, his body taking in the medicine Cynthia had brought for him (Unknown to Paul and John, she’d had to lie to the apothecary and claim she was the one ill, it took a long time for slaves to get medicine and usually they got some of a lesser quality.) Paul was sitting beside him, staring without meaning to into that beautiful face. A firm knock on the door disturbed him. 

 

He groaned quietly, “Who is it?”

 

“Son!” Came the King’s loud voice, “I have great news for you.” And he walked in.

 

Luckily, Paul’s bed wasn’t in sight from the main entrance and he was able to quickly stand up and close the curtain around the bed to hide John. “Father,” He said as he walked away, “It is a tad late for news, is it not?”

 

King James put his large hands on his son’s shoulders, “Not at all, not for this type of news.” He grinned, “King Richard of Asherton had agreed to an alliance!”

 

Paul smiled back, genuinely happy. They had been in negotiations with Asherton for years and years now, a heavy boulder on his father’s shoulder. “That is magnificent, is the deal beneficial?”

 

His father moved to sit on the half-sofa John had been occupying earlier, he nodded, “Oh yes, most beneficial. He will provide calvary men, horses, cannons, artillery men, and plenty of food for the men in our next campaign. And you have not heard the best part yet,” He stood up and moved to where Paul kept the wine.

 

Paul took his glass gratefully, “Yes, father?”

 

King James smiled conspiratorially, “You’ve heard of Princess Jane, have you not?”

 

His son nodded, “Her beauty and skill in the arts is well known.” He took a sip of his wine, clueless as to why she had been mentioned. 

 

“I have arranged a marriage between the two of you, in order to better ally our two kingdoms.”

 

Paul choked on his wine, “Pardon?”

 

His father nodded and poured more wine, “Indeed! She will be arriving within the next two weeks to start the courtship, the wedding will be in Asherton however.” Seeing his son’s astonished face he laughed, “But that will not be for another three months, of course! You still have plenty of time for bachelory, my son.” Then he frowned, “Speaking of, where is that slave of yours?” He chuckled, “I did not kill him, did I?”

 

Paul did not laugh along but bit down on his anger, “No, sire. He is...down at the ponds, helping the maid with the sheets.” 

 

His father hummed, “Don’t see what much use he would be down there, but he is your slave, do with him as you please.” He took another sip of wine, “Of course I don’t expect you to give him up after you marry, but you might want to consider sending him to the slave’s chambers.” He laughed, “It might be unbecoming to have the wife and the whore in the same place!”

 

Paul forced a quiet chuckle and bit his lip, “I’ll think about it, sire.” Silently begging for the conversation to end.”

 

But his father refused to get the hint, “And if not, you could gift him to someone, perhaps. Many of the other generals have expressed an interest in borrowing him, if you don’t want him anymore.”

 

Paul tried to hide the look of disgust that threatened to take over his face, but some manage to slip through.

 

His father took this a possessiveness and laughed, “Do as you wish, Paul. But please, when Princess Jane arrives, give her all attention and affection due.”

 

Paul nodded, “Yes, sire. I’m sure she will be a wonderful queen.”

 

At this his father nodded solemnly, “Your mother would be very happy to see you settle down with a good woman from a good family.”

 

His son looked down, “Yes,” He replied, “Thank you, father. I am certain I will love her in no time.”

 

Satisfied, the king decided to leave. Afterwards, Paul sat on the sofa and finished the bottle of wine. What was he going to do? What was going to happen to John? And Princess Jane, could he fall in love with her?

 

With this questions, the prince fell into a nervous sleep, unaware that John had awoken in the middle of his conversation with the king and had heard everything. 

 

The virgin’s thoughts were running, he was shaking at the thoughts of his future. He found no more sleep that night, as he tried to keep his distressed whimpers down. It would not do well to disturb Paul in any way now that it all depended on the prince wanting John with him or with...some other Allertorian. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no intention of making Jane super evil or evil at all really. Also, George will get better soon, promise.


	8. F is For Fuck It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorty but goody i think

Paul woke up to a delicious smell and he opened his eyes to find a plate of meat, bread, and mashed apple sauce. A fine hand was pouring juice into a goblet. 

 

“John?” He asked blearily, rubbing his eyes. 

 

The other man put down the goblet and turned to kneel by his side, “Good morning, your highness.” He said in a respectful tone.

 

Paul frowned, “‘Your highness’?” Confused at the title coming from John. 

 

The virgin bowed, “I apologize, your royal highness.” He stood up and moved away, “I prepared you a bath for after you eat.” Cynthia had been confused by his almost fearful eagerness to take over her duties but said nothing, John was determined to prove his usefulness to Paul, even if he felt lightheaded and his throat ached him. 

 

Paul was very confused, “I..thank you, John. You shouldn’t have.”

 

John gingerly moved to stand behind Paul, “Of course I have to, your royal highness.” He put his hands on Paul’s tense shoulders, “Would you like me rub your back?” He’d learned it from Barbara, a fellow virgin of his. 

 

Paul shook his head, “John, what’s wro- _ oh my _ .” John was doing wonders for his back, his thin fingers strong as they got rid of the tension there. “Don’t stop, please.” 

 

John smiled to himself, pleased that he was helping Paul and also hoping the prince would appreciate this skill in the long run. “Of course, your royal highness.”

 

Paul still questioned the title, but decided to be quiet for now, he really had needed something to take off the stress. John was a miracle worker.

 

* * *

 

The confusion from the morning was still there for Paul. John was still acting odd, submissive and overly respectful. And when Paul had asked him if he was still feeling ill, the virgin had pretended he was fine even though he clearly wasn’t. 

 

Paul had left to check on the horses at the royal stables, and came back to find John scrubbing the floors. He saw John wince and touch his hands, now covered in calluses from doing work he’d never had done before. And he’d also taken off the diadem. Paul stepped forwards, “John?”

 

The virgin startled and lifted his head, “Prince Paul! I, I’ll be finished in no time, I thought you were going to be longer.” He bowed, “Your royal highness.”

 

Paul knelt beside him, “Alright, what’s wrong? Why are you acting like this, John?” He sighed, “I, I thought we had gotten somewhere yesterday outside, what happened?”

 

John shook his head and curled into himself, he didn’t want Paul to be angry at his eavesdropping. “There is nothing wrong.”

 

Paul rested a gentle hand on John’s arm, “I can see that something is bothering you, did I do something? Have I frightened you somehow? ‘Cause John, if I did, I’m sorry.”

 

John sighed, now he had upset Paul. “No..Paul. You said nothing wrong but your father…”

 

Paul sat back, understanding. “You heard him last night.”

 

John grabbed Paul’s hands and bowed down, “I can be useful Paul, I will learn to clean and, and I could prepare your baths like I did today, you don’t have to send me away!” He tried to keep his breathing under control, but he was scared, very scared. “Please don’t gift me away to some general, Paul. I couldn’t survive that, please.” He didn’t give Paul time to speak, “I won’t bother you, or your wife. I will serve her too, I will do anything!”

 

Paul enveloped John in his arms, “John! Please stop, I would never do that to you.” He rubbed the thin, shivering arms, “I care about you, John, very much. No one will take you away, no matter what my father says. Princess Jane will change nothing.”

 

The virgin shook his head, “But when you marry her-”

 

“I will protect you still, and if something happens and I can no longer do so, then I will arrange for you to go to the mountains. I won’t have you be given by some cruel man, I swear to you.” Paul wiped away a few stray tears, “You don’t have to do this to yourself, John. I don’t ask you to, I don’t need you to.” 

 

John buried his face in Paul’s neck, “I am very afraid, your father has said  _ such _ crude things.” He shook his head, “I could pretend that it was all alright, that I was used to this live but...I lied to myself.”

 

Paul leaned them back against a table leg, “Do you wish to leave?”

 

John pondered for a moment, then slowly shook his head again. “No.” And it killed him to say that but it was his heart’s truth. 

 

Paul couldn’t help but feel slight relief, still he questioned, “Why?” He had to know, worried as he still was over what would happen when Princess Jane arrived. 

 

John took a calming breath and reached to take ahold of Paul’s hand from where it rested on John’s waist. “I...I care about you too, Paul, very much.” If he went to the mountains he’d know no one, but here he at least had Paul, who had taught him what fun meant and cared for John and respected him and treated John wish a semblance of love he’d never gotten at the church.

 

Paul was quiet for a moment, his hand warm as it held John’s. He raised the other one to the priestess’ face, “I, John.”

 

John’s breath stuttered as he felt his face be caressed by Paul’s rough warrior hand. It felt different from Stu’s, better. He leaned into the touch, “Yes?” His voice was a whisper.

 

Paul swallowed his nerves and was about to swallow his thoughts, but his mouth had different plans, “Could I kiss you?” No, what had he done? John would get more upset, John would never forgive him, John would want to leave, John...was nodding?

 

The virgin’s actions felt natural, even if they went against everything he’d been taught since practically birth. He’d never been kissed, not anywhere on his body. There was a virgin, Maria, who’d joined the church at a mature age and had once told him and his friends that she’d been kissed once by a warrior. A warrior she loved but had died in battle, and so she had decided to join the church in an effort to overcome her grief. John and his friends had been scandalized, but understood that what she needed was not aversion but comfort. And now, here John was, about to receive a kiss just like hers. Except John wasn’t scandalized, he wasn’t afraid, he was excited. 

 

Paul leaned closer and looked at the man before him, a strong man, stronger than many warriors that fought under Paul, and decided he’d never seen and would never  _ see _ someone more beautiful. 

 

When their lips locked, it was a feeling unlike anything else. John’s heart was beating fast, but not in fear. And Paul could die in this moment and be happy, because John’s lips were the only thing he could think about. He’d kissed plenty of men and women in his life, and none compared to John. with John there was more than desire, there was relief and happiness and a touch of fear for what the future could bring, but most of all there was trust. Complete trust. 

 

John raised his hand to wrap it around Paul’s neck and any thoughts of shame at the kiss where eradicated from his mind. Who was there to judge him anyhow? All there was was Paul, beautiful Paul who made John feel something new and yet something he’d been longing for all his life. They both smiled when they separated and rested their foreheads together. 

 

And that night John got some good sleep, because he wasn’t alone. He had Paul around him, protecting him, and that was all he needed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, they didn't sleep together. They're just spooning.


	9. Poison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more george centric, Paul whump, and helpful John.

Paul walked into his chambers to find and upset John sitting in a chair and grasping at his chin. He walked towards him and said worryingly, “Is everything alright, John?”

 

The virgin turned his head in his direction, “No.”

 

Paul was truly worried now, “What is it, did someone come in? The King?”

 

“No.” Said John and finally removed his hands from his chin, “I’m growing a beard.”

 

Paul couldn’t help but let out a little laugh, “Oh! That’s not so bad, happens to everyone.” He sat next to John, “You like mine, don’t you?”

 

“But I am not everyone, Paul!” He really did sound upset, “I am a  _ virgin _ . A priestess. This doesn’t happen to me.” He’d never had a beard before and what once seemed excited upset him now. One more thing that was changing in this hurricane that had become his life. 

 

Seeing that the other man truly found this upsetting, Paul hurried to speak. “Tell you what, I’ll teach you to shave. And I’m sure Cyn knows some tricks to..well, to get rid of all body hair.” 

 

John nodded, suddenly feeling foolish for his overreaction, “Yes, thank you.”

 

Paul chuckled and put an arm around John, “Of course.” He pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. 

 

John leaned against Paul and sighed, “How were your rounds?”

 

Paul sighed, “Good, I suppose. Everyone is talking about the treaty and um...about the upcoming wedding.”

 

John forced himself to remain relaxed, he had no desire to devote any thought on Lady Jane’s arrival soon. He felt for Paul’s hand, “You are tired?”

 

Paul intertwined their fingers together, “Yes, but I’m afraid there is a feast later today with the ambassadors of Asherton and a few other kingdoms.”

 

John hummed, it was just bad news after bad news today, since Paul would not be able to have dinner with him. “I will wait for you eagerly, then.”

 

“Would you like me to bring you something?” Paul asked him. 

 

John hesitated, “Do you think they’ll have some of that chocolate cake you brought me a few days ago?”

 

Paul grinned, “Of course, I’ll bring you an enormous piece! Now, how about I teach you to shave?”

 

They stood as one and Paul led John into the bath chamber.

 

* * *

 

So far the dinner wasn’t horrible as Paul had expected, he was seated next to George and a fairly pleasant man called Jeremy Hillary of Boob, a philosopher. He spoke in such a fantastic way, rhyming and he kept on repeating the words ‘So little time, so much to know!’ Paul supposed he was right. 

 

Soon, it was time for the toasts. The Ambassador of London gave a speech, saying how the crown prince Michael of Jagger had been overjoyed at signing the treaty (He wasn’t king yet, with his uncle as regent for reasons unknown.) Then the ambassador for Bowie, a small but powerful nation, gave a speech and praised his lord’s name, David of Jones. Then came the Ambassadors of Asherton, Johnsburg, Jacksonville, etc. So many speeches and Paul just wanted to get back to John. They couldn’t even drink wine until after his father spoke. Finally, the King stood up. 

 

“Thank you, Ambassadors, for your powerful words.” He started, “I am most certain that together, our great nations will unite these lands once and for all.” Pause for applause. “We all come from different places and have different cultures, but it is a compliment to our perseverance that we can put all this aside and fight as one against the heretics and the savages that surround our kingdoms.” More applause. Yes, they were so accepting that they burnt down all those ‘heretics.’ The King then smiled in Paul’s direction, “It is my pleasure to announce the union between the beautiful Princess Jane of Asherton and my son, our most majestic warrior, Prince Paul.”

 

Everyone clapped (Some less enthusiastically than others, especially the ambassadors that had failed to get their heir chosen to be Paul’s spouse.) as Paul raised his glass in acknowledgement while George clapped his back.

 

The king raised his hands and everyone fell silent. He raised his glass, “To our Union!”

 

“To our Union!” Everyone echoed and started to drink from their recently poured goblets. 

 

Paul thanked the gods that the toasts were over, he just had to drink this, eat the dessert then go down to the kitchen to get John his cake and go. He could do it. It was a bit disappointing however, the wine tasted rancid. He nodded at George’s cup, “Is your wine off too?” He asked.

 

George frowned at him, “What do you mean? It’s delicious, straight from Johnsburg.”

 

Paul was about to tell him to have a taste when he started to feel a burn in his throat and mouth. He coughed and raised a hand to his neck. 

 

George frowned and others started to look as well. “Paul?” He asked, “What is wrong?”

 

Paul couldn’t answer and he just shook his head, which was turning red. Soon, he was coughing over and over again. George started to slap his back but it did little. Paul tried to stand up but fell to the ground on his knees.

 

George followed him and saw him cough out something red. He looked at the ground, was that blood. 

 

The king appeared beside him, “What’s the matter? What is wrong with my son?” 

 

Paul had fallen to his side now and was struggling for air.

 

George picked him up and stood up, “We must get him a healer!”

 

A fellow knight nodded and went away from them.

 

The King looked distraught, “Take him to his chambers, the healer will go there.”

 

As he walked, George could hear all sorts of voice, curious and worried. ‘Is that the prince?’ they asked. ‘He’s been poisoned.’ They said. Seeing Paul’s eyes close, George started to run. This couldn’t be happening, not to Paul.

 

* * *

 

John was rubbing hands over the clean shaven area around his mouth and chin, smiling at the soft feel. Paul had also gotten Cynthia to bring him some wax so that, we it appeared, he could get rid of all other body hair. He wasn’t wearing the circlet, it was on the bathchamber, soaking in soapy water.

 

He hummed at himself from where he sat on the bed, Cyn was busy preparing all the chambers for their guests and Paul wasn’t back yet so John was feeling rather lonely.

 

Suddenly, he was startled by the door smashing open. He jumped, “Paul?” Was he okay? Was he angry?

 

“Get him out of here!” Came a sharp order.

 

John grew cold, it was the voice of Sir George, that couldn’t be good. He flinched as he was grabbed from his middle and dragged away from the bed. “What’s happening? Where’s Paul?”

 

“I said get him out of here!”

 

And John was being practically carried farther and farther away. He shook his head and struggled frantically. “Paul!” He shouted in desperation. The man would never do this to John, not after everything that had happened recently. “ _ Paul _ !”

 

Next thing he knew the air grew colder and he heard the bang of the door slamming shut. His breathing was frantic with fear. 

 

A growly voice came from his left, “What are we supposed to do with him then?”

 

A rough voice from his right, “Take him to the slave chambers, says I. No use to the prince now, is he?”

 

John gasped. Had Paul been lying? Was he sending away now that he was getting married? What had changed his mind? He struggled with renewed strength, “No! Let me go, you pigs!”

 

The person holding him turned him around and slammed him against the wall, hurting his healing back. “Now, you shut up, slave!” A hand came up to his chin, “I might be tempted to keep you myself.”

 

The rough voice scoffed, “Don’t talk nonsense, he belongs to the prince.”

 

There was laughter, “Not for long.”

 

John’s heart couldn’t bear to hear anymore. He could feel it shattering under the weight of the situation. And to think, he had actually believed that Paul cared. 

 

The growly voice interrupted the chatter, “But for now, he belongs to the prince. Come on, to the dungeons then. Can’t let the other slaves get handsy.”

 

John was taken down to the dungeons kicking and screaming. At one point one of the other guards picked up his legs and held them in place. 

 

There was the sound of a squeaky door opening and he was thrown into the cell. He winced as he fell on his arm.  

 

“Don’t go anywhere.” Laugh the man with the rough voice and soon the voiced faded away. 

 

John wanted to stand up and go yell at anyone to let him out. But he was just too upset and tired, he curled up to keep warm in the cold cell and tried to get rid of the lump in his throat. He wasn’t very successful.

 

* * *

 

George stared as the healers fluttered around Paul, looking more like headless chickens than trained professionals. The King was away, using the excuse of talking to the royal guard as a way of getting out of seeing his son dying.

 

He grabbed the arm of a nurse passing through, “Is he alright? Do you know a cure?”

 

She only shook his head at him and went to wet a rag on a bucket of water. 

 

One of the healers stepped up, “I’m afraid this poison is unknown to us, Sir George.”

 

George rubbed his eyes, he couldn’t let Paul die, not his prince.

 

Sir Pete entered the room and went to him, “All the ambassadors are denying any involvement.”

 

George rolled his eyes, “Of course they are.” He frowned, “How did the tasters not register the poison?”

 

“Remember, sir, we all drank that same wine. It had be in the goblet or else we would all be like the prince.” Sir Pete told him. 

 

George started to nod but stopped as he thought about something else. “Or maybe, it wasn’t the cup at all...that fiend!” He yelled and started to walk out of the room. 

 

Pete followed him, “Sir?”

 

“Don’t you see?” Said an agitated George as they walked away from the room. “It’s that heretic slave, he must have put a curse on the prince.”

 

Pete frowned, “I wasn’t aware the Mendipians practiced sorcery.”

 

“Oh, who knows what goes on on those horrible temples.” George said and started to go down the stairs that led to the dungeons. Sir Phil had informed him of where they had put the priestess.

 

“Should I inform the king?” Asked Pete.

 

George stopped, “...no.” He said, “Let me prove my theory first.” The King would be upset if he was distracted and it was a false lead. 

 

* * *

 

John was startled as the door to the cell banged open. He started to crawl backwards but wasn’t fast enough to escape the man lunging at him.

 

George picked the priestess up by the neck and slammed him against the wall. “What is the cure?” He demanded, squeezing the neck in grip.

 

John gasped for air, “W-what?”

 

George growled, “You poisoned the prince, how?” He squeezed harder.

 

John froze. Paul...was poisoned? He hadn’t thrown John away, he was hurt! “I-I didn’t!” He let out, “I wouldn’t!” He raised hands to his neck, trying to loosen the other’s grip.

 

Seeing that the man wouldn’t be able to talk for much longer, George let him fall to the floor. “How could I trust you?” He hissed.

 

John started to cough and he held his neck. He glared upwards, hearing the knight’s boots to his left. “I would  _ never _ hurt Paul!” He exclaimed. Paul was..he meant...he was a part of John in a way no one had ever been before. He’d never had someone to care for him, not someone he could care for in return. Paul was unique. John couldn’t lose that, not after everything.

 

George scoffed, “You’re his slave-”

 

John interrupted him, “I’m his...friend.” More than that, but to say otherwise would only make the other laugh. 

 

The knight looked down at the priestess and shook his head, “A heretic and a liar as well.”

 

John groaned silently but refused to continue the argument. “Please,” He said, “What are his symptoms? I used to help our healers back home, I could help-”

 

“I doubt you’d know more than our healers.” George shook his head, letting some worry seep into his tone.

 

John heard it, “Tell me his symptoms.” He said again. Any chance he had to save Paul, he had to take.

 

George was thinking something along the same lines. He nodded reluctantly to himself. “He had some wine, same as the rest of us, and then started to choke. He was struggling for air and coughing up blood. He passed out and I had to carry him into his chambers. He, uh, was sweating like mad and his mouth was odd, like-”

 

“Purple?” John interrupted, turning cold.

 

George turned to look at him, “Yeah.” He walked forwards, “Do you know it?”

 

John nodded and started to stand up, “It is nightweed, it grows in the mountains.”

 

George squinted at him, “How do you know of it then?”

 

John swallowed, “I was once poisoned with it as well.”

 

“Who would poison  _ you _ ?”

 

The priestess frowned at him, “Someone who found out who’s son I was.” He said.

 

George understood. “But you’re alive, there’s a cure?” He really hoped the slave was not lying, and if he was...there would be hell to pay.

 

John nodded, “Yes, but we must act fast. Do you have mulberry leaves?”

 

George nodded, “Of course.” He grew mulberry himself on his small private garden. No one but his aid, Bob, knew about it. Not even Paul.

 

“We must boil them on vinegar, it will purge the poison once its fed to Paul.” John insisted. “But be quick, nightweed acts fast.”

 

George started to leave without another word, John following him. George put a hand on his chest, “What do you think you’re doing?”

 

The virgin frowned, “I’ve helped you.” He said, “I must see Paul.”

 

George laughed, “Oh, I don’t think so. You’re staying right here, I don’t even know if what you’re saying is true.”

 

John glared at him and tried to keep on walking, but the knight was much stronger and pushed him back.

 

“If Paul lives, he’ll get you out.” George told him. “If he doesn’t, I’ll kill you myself.” And he left, locking the cell behind him.

 

John fell against the wall. What if it was too late for Paul? He was so young and such a good man, John had no doubt that he would be a great king some day. And if he died? Allerton would rot with its king and John would die. Would it be so awful, he wondered. After all, everyone he knew was dead. Even his aunt, the queen, was a captive two seconds away from the blade. John had no one but Paul. Paul who was so misled in so many way, but kept a kind honest heart beneath it all. He held John and protected him and...kissed him. John loved Paul’s kisses, they were always soft and sweet. John couldn’t imagine kissing anyone else.

 

* * *

 

George walked in holding a steaming bowl containing the boiled leaves, it smelled horrible. 

 

The healers looked up at him from where they were talking between themselves, “Sir George?”

 

“Move aside.” He ordered and went to Paul’s side. 

 

The lead one frowned at him, “What is that?” He asked in a cool tone.

 

“Hopefully,” Said George as he stirred it, “A remedy.” He grabbed a glass of water from the bedside table and dumped its contents in one of the healer’s bowls, not caring what was inside. Gingerly, he opened Paul’s purple mouth and held it open as he poured down the leaves and vinegar. He held the prince’s mouth shut in order to avoid any spillage.

 

The lead healer walked closer, “Who told you of this?” He felt rather put out that his team had been unable to do anything for the prince, but this inexperienced knight.

 

George said nothing. He had forgotten to ask the priestess how long it would take for the cure to take effect. But his answer came when Paul started to convulse on his bed, his body shaking like mad. He gasped and stepped away. 

 

The healer pushed him away, “Quick! We must make him hurl it out!” He gestured to his helpers. 

 

George stopped them by stepping in front of them, “No, let it cleanse him.” He said.

 

The healers gaped at him. Their leader glared, “I suppose you think you know better, knight?”

 

George glared right back, his much more intimidating, “Yes. Now, step away.”

 

“The king will hear of this.” The other man said.

 

George swallowed but said nothing and refused to move. Once the healers had cleared the room, he turned back to Paul, who was still shaking lightly. He shook his head, that man had better been right.

 

It had to have been fifteen minutes later when the door slammed open and King James walked inside. “Sir George!” He exclaimed, “What is this I hear of you keeping my healers from attending their prince?”

 

George stood unflinchingly, “They were unable to provide a cure, sire. I found one and administered it.”

 

The king frowned, “Where did you find this?”

 

George considered admitting that he got it off their prisoner, but knew that that would only put suspicion on the priestess and that was the last thing they needed right now. “A book, sire. It appeared to me that the poison came from nightweed.”

 

The lead healer scoffed, “I’ve never heard of this ‘nightweed’”

 

George shrugged lightly, “It grows in the mountains.”

 

The king’s frown was still present, “And? Has your recklessness brought fruit?”

 

George was saved from answering by a cough coming from behind him, followed by another and another. He turned and gasped in relief, Paul was awakening. He rushed to his friend’s side and knelt beside him, “Paul?”

 

His friend’s mouth was no longer purple when he opened it to gasp out, “Water.”

 

A young nurse immediately rushed over with a glass and helped him drink it. She felt his forehead and smiled up at the king, “His fever has broken, sire.”

 

The king laughed, “Fantastic!” He clapped his hands and smiled at George, “I will ensure you are well rewarded, Sir George. And now, I must inform the people.”

 

The nurse frowned slightly, “Do you not wish to see him?”

 

The king froze, “No.” He said and turned a cold eye on her, “Do not presume to know what a king must do, woman.”

 

The nurse bowed, “Apologies, sire.”

 

The king walked away, leaving the lead healer behind glaring at George. 

 

George didn’t bother to look at him, his attention was on his friend. He smiled tentatively, “Welcome back, Paul.”

 

The prince frowned at the ceiling, “Wha-at happened?” His voice was weak and scratchy. 

 

The nurse left to give them privacy, avoiding the cold glare of her superior. At last, the healer left in a huff, slamming the door behind him. 

 

George looked down, “You were poisoned.”

 

Paul blinked his eyes and said nothing.

 

His friend raised his eyebrows, “Your slave...John, he told me the cure.”

 

Paul looked around as much as he could, “Where is he?”

 

“I, eh, sent him away. He’s in the dungeons.” He looked down, feeling ashamed. The man had saved his best friend’s life, even after all the horrible treatment they’d put him through. It was admirable.

 

Paul’s eyes turned cold even as he coughed once more. “Bring him back.” He said, “I need him.” 

 

George nodded, “Of course.” He stood up and smiled down at his friend, “I’m glad you’re alright, Paul.”

 

His prince’s gaze was cool, “You have John to thank for that.”

 

George nodded, “I know.” 

 

* * *

 

He opened the cell door to find the priestess curled up in a corner, shivering in the cold air. George felt shame and guilt at the sight.

 

John raised his head with his heart in his throat, “Is he alright?” He knew it was the knight, he carried a scent with him that John was now familar with. A mix of spices and garden plants.

 

George smiled at the hopeful tone, perhaps the man did care about Paul, odd as it may be. “Yes, you saved him.

 

John’s face was overcome by a smile.

 

George walked to him, “He asked for you.”

 

John went to stand but stopped when he felt what was probably a hand appear near his face.

 

George spoke, “Let me help you up.”

 

John was confused by still took the offered hand, almost missing it. He stood up slowly and started to walk but a hand on his chest stopped him. 

 

George took a breath, “I’m sorry...John. I’ve mistreated you and misjudged you. You saved my prince’s life, I owe you.”

 

John felt slightly overwhelmed, “Oh.” He said. Then he nodded, “Thank you.” What else could he say without making this even more awkward.

 

George moved away and offered his arm, “Would you like me to lead you?” Paul had done that once right? Back in Mendip Hill?

 

John felt for the other’s arm, “Yes, that’d be appreciated.” He smiled shyly.

 

George smiled back. 

 

* * *

 

The moment they entered the room, John let go of George and ran to Paul’s side, expertly avoiding all obstacles. He sat on the bed next to where he felt Paul laying. 

 

Paul smiled and took one of his hands, “You saved me.”

 

John squeezed the hand he held, “I’m happy you’re okay.”

 

“I didn’t get you your cake.” Paul lamented.

 

John laughed, “Don’t worry about it.”

 

The prince reached up and brushed John’s hair, “You’re beautiful.”

 

John reddened at the word, “So are you.” At least from what’d he’d felt, Paul had a very pleasing structure. Not that it really mattered, Paul’s personality was enough.

 

George watched this interaction with curiosity. He knew that Paul had never taken the virgin as was expected, but he hadn’t expected such closeness. As much as now felt sorry for John, it would not be good for the prince to catch feelings, not when he was due to marry in a few months. But his suspicions were confirmed as he saw Paul reach up and started to more John’s head down.

 

Slowly and tenderly, Paul guided John down, the virgin moving willingly. Their lips met and it was like all the problems of the past moments could be forgotten.

 

George left them alone, walking out deep in thought. Whatever Paul was getting himself into, he would help him, no matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a comment a day keeps an author yayyay


	10. The Red Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay im updating just before McLennon Day

It was a cold day and John had buried himself and Paul in a dozen blankets. The prince was still in bed rest and John had refused to leave his side. 

 

Paul felt like he was in an oven, “Er, John?”

 

The blankets shifted slightly, “Yes?” Came a content voice.

 

“Isn’t it a bit hot in here?” Paul asked.

 

John’s head appeared, “No.” He said.

 

Paul held back a sigh, “I’m gonna take off a few okay? I’ll just pile them on top of you-“

 

“No!” Exclaimed John, “You’re recuperating!” He sounded adamant.

 

“It’s not good for me to be too hot either.” Paul told him.

 

John sighed, “...I don’t want you to get ill again.”

 

Paul took his hand, “I know that, and I promise nothing will happen if I take a few of these off.”

 

John surrendered, “Alright. I’ll take them.”

 

Paul reached up to kiss his cheek and received a blinding smile in return.

 

After the transition which found Paul cooler and John happily buried under more blankets, the prince started to think. When he had been under, John had been dragged to the dungeons with no chance of fighting back. He didn’t plan on letting something like that happen again but still, they should be prepared. His guards weren’t the only threat John could face. “Johnny?” He called.

 

The pile of blankets hummed.

 

“Did you ever learn to fight?” The prince asked.

 

There was a pause. Then came a disgruntled voice, “Of course not!” John’s head appeared once more, “I am a priestess! A virgin!”

 

Paul ran a soothing hand down John’s arm, “I know, I know. But I think maybe you ought to be more...prepared. Should something happen.”

 

John froze, “Something?”

 

Paul sat up, “We  _ are  _ at war, it wasn’t just Mendip Hill. What happened at the bridge, even what happened two days ago- I want you to be able to protect yourself.”

 

John shook his head, “Violence is abhorrent to me. It is not of Goddess.”

 

Paul put a gentle hand on John’s cheek, “Please, I couldn’t bear to see you hurt. I want to be there always to protect you, but I don’t want to risk losing you should I be unable to act.”

 

John was quiet. If he learned to fight he would abandon yet another of his teachings, betray his order even more. As much as he adored being with Paul, he knew he had shamed himself many times over. But to fight? To commit acts of violence? John would degrade himself to the greatest shame. Violence was for warriors and criminals, not for devotees of Goddess. 

 

Paul was concerned, “John?”

 

The priestess sighed, “I suppose there is no one but Goddess to judge me and I have already betrayed her.”

 

Paul didn’t want John to feel like a traitor to his faith, as much as he disagreed with it. “I’m sure your Goddess understands.”

 

John just shook his head. “I will allow you to teach me and pray for forgiveness.” He stood and headed away, "Excuse me, I need a bath.”

 

Paul saw him leave and sighed. But he knew that this was for the best, John needed to know his way around a sword.

* * *

 

Sir George was currently tending to his roses, making sure their petals were bright and not droopy. He was out of armour and his hair was wild in the wind. This garden had been a gift from the late Queen Mary to his mother Louise, who’d given it to him shortly before illness had taken her. No one knew about it, certainly not his father. Except Bob. Bob knew about the garden.

 

Robert Of Dylan was George’s aid and his closest friend, even more than the Prince. George has to admit that he had entertained thoughts of being more than friends, but it was prohibited by the knight’s code. Besides, Bob would never want him. He could have any lass or lad in Allerton, and he’d never looked twice at George in that way. They worked together, drank together, and fought together but that is where it ended. George’s heart longed for more, but it was not to be.

 

As if called by his aching heart, Sir Bob appeared by the entrance to the garden. George jumped as a hand fell on his shoulder.

 

“Sorry, sir.” Said Bob.

 

George waved him off, “What can I do for you?”

 

Bob caressed a petal, “These are growing nicely.” He said.

 

George smiled, “Thanks, I was afraid they might perish during the campaign but rainfall has been plentiful.”

 

“I’m glad.” His aid told him. “The king wishes to speak with you and Prince Paul.”

 

George frowned, “Paul is still in bed rest.”

 

Bob shrugged, “The king insisted he had to see him.”

 

George knew that Paul would not want to leave John alone, but wouldn’t want to take him either. He sighed and nodded, “Alright. I’ll talk with him.”

 

Bob smiled confidently at him, “I’m sure it’s nothing to be worried about.”

 

George hoped he was right.

* * *

 

George heard giggling when he stood outside his prince’s door. He leaned close and put his ear to the door. 

 

“Paul, I swear.” That was John. 

 

“I just want to stretch my legs, my darling.” There was Paul.

 

“Don’t you ‘My darling’ me, warrior. Get back on the bed.” John sounded frustrated. 

 

George opened the door to see John sitting up on the bed, holding a struggling Paul’s arm. The prince wasn’t really trying to get away, but rather appeared to be trying to amuse John. And while the virgin was frowning, he did seem to be holding off a grin. 

 

“Everything okay?” George asked, also amused. 

 

Paul sighed in relief, “George! Won’t you tell the priestess to let me get off the bed?”

 

“Noooooo!” Interrupted John. “You are still weak!”

 

“As much as I would like to agree with John,” George started, “The king wants to see you.”

 

Abruptly, John let go of Paul’s arm and tensed up. Paul’s smile disappeared and he sighed. 

 

“Why?” The prince asked. 

 

George shrugged, “I have no idea.”

 

“But he is ill!” John complained, face agitated. 

 

Paul ran a gentle hand over his dear one’s hair, “I must go, John. I’ll be back. And this way I can go down to the kitchens and get you your cake.”

 

“I don’t want cake!” John stood up with an upset face, “I want you to get better.”

 

As George pretended to be a plant, Paul stepped close to John and took a hold of his hands. “My darling, I’ll be okay. I promise. I will come right back.”

 

John moved away and headed towards the bath chamber. “Just go.”

 

“John-”

 

But the priestess was gone. 

 

Paul sighed and turned to George, “Let’s go.”

 

Wisely, the knight said nothing. 

 

Silently, they went out into the halls and started on their way to the King’s chambers. After minutes of this silence, the prince spoke up. 

 

“George,” He said, “I’d like to ask for your help.”

 

“Of course. With what?” George had a feeling it had to do with John. Maybe Paul wanted something to apologize?

 

But it was not this. Paul continued, “I want us to train him in sword fighting.”

 

George stopped walking, “Sorry?”

 

“I want him to be safe. He’s agreed ...reluctantly.” Paul shook his head, “I need him to be safe.”

 

“But he’s-”

 

“Blind, yes.” Paul nodded, “Others have done it and  _ we _ will do our best.”

 

George didn’t raise any other protests. In fact he agreed, the virgin needed protection. And Paul and George couldn’t be there forever. “Very well.”

 

“We start tomorrow.” Paul told him and they resumed walking. 

 

They stopped before the grand doors that opened to reveal the king’s chambers, a guard going inside to tell the King of their presence. The guard came back and held the door for them. “He awaits your presence, my sirs.”

 

Paul and George entered and walked to where the King’s office was located. The king sat at his desk, enjoying a nice glass of wine and looking over some reports. 

 

“Ah, there you are!” King James boomed. “Sit, sit.”

 

Paul and George sat in the comfortable couches in front of the desk. 

 

“My son, I am glad to see you well.” James told his son with a glad smile as he served them both some wine. 

 

“Thank you, father.” Paul answered in a cool tone. Truth was, he did feel hurt over his father staying away from his sickbed. Glad as he was that the King would be away from John, the son in Paul felt abandoned by his father. 

 

The king didn’t seem to notice anything amiss and turned to George. “Sir George, I have new duties for you.”

 

George sat up straight, “Sire?”

 

“Our spies have brought us new intel.” King James said, “Tokyo has allied with Mendip Hill, or what’s left of it. Along with Cleptonia.”

 

Paul swore under his breath. Tokyo was a kingdom known for its great soldiers and genius generals. Their ruler, Empress Yoko, herself was an accomplished foe on the battlefield and was known for her ruthless tactics. 

 

“We hear that their armies are heading to Allerton.” James said severely, “And we must meet them in before they do.”

 

“How close are they?” George asked.

 

“Months.” King James said, “Tokyo is practically at the other end of the world. But as soon as my son has married, we will head out.”

 

Sir George nodded, “Yes, sire.”

 

“You are to train the conscripts from the recent drafts. I want them in fighting form by the Spring, understand?” The King told him. 

 

Geoge bowed, “Of course, sire. I shall prepare them well.”

 

“I know you will, Sir George. You will make your father proud.” The King then waved a hand, “Dismissed.”

 

George stood and bowed again, then left. ‘Make your father proud’ It seemed to him that that was to be his only purpose in life. He’d tried all his life and he still hadn’t achieved it, maybe now he would have his chance. 

 

Paul looked down at his wine and waited for his father to speak. 

 

“Paul.” James said in a soft tone, “Look at me, son.”

 

The prince did as told.

 

The King surprised him. “I wish to apologize.”

 

Paul did a double take. “Pardon?” He said. 

 

The king was the one to now look down at his goblet, “I wish to apologize,” He repeated, “For staying away during your...illness.”

 

“I understand, father. You are a busy man.” Paul faked a respectful smile. 

 

“No.” James said. “I did not stay away because I was otherwise occupied. I stayed way because I was afraid.”

 

His father? Afraid? Paul could not believe it. 

 

The king kept going, “I did not wish to see you, to see you like I saw your mother.” James reached out to offer his hand to his son, “You need to know, my son, I could never bear to lose you. Not like Mary, not like...Michael.” The name was a whisper. 

 

Paul flinched at the name and took his father’s hand. He looked over the king’s shoulder to see the portrait of his younger brother, Prince Michael, that was hanging there. Michael had always looked up to him, always followed him. And one day he followed him on patrol of the neighboring woods...and he never returned. How Paul had screamed his name, searched the entirety of the woods personally, but Michael was nowhere to be seen. He had been lost five years ago, and declared death three years ago. He had been just a boy, Paul’s little brother. 

 

Father and son smiled softly at each other, knowing that they were all the family they had left.

* * *

 

Meanwhile, in a refugee camp for the people of Mendip Hill, Sir Richard Starkey was looking over the maps of Allerton they had available. An invasion, sponsored by Tokyo and Claptonia, was set in motion. 

 

“Why so serious, Sir Richard?” Asked a large man as he entered the tent. 

 

Ringo looked up at Sir John of Dykins, a knight of Claptonia and a pain in his side. He was the representative of King Eric and felt it gave him authority over Ringo, despite being equal. 

 

The people of Claptonia worshipped the same goddess as those of Mendip Hill and King Eric had sent over a great number of their Virgins to aid as healers and carers for the refugees. But seeing them only reminded the knight of a Virgin he had let down. John of Lennon was a captive of the Allertorians, probably being tortured and abused in many horrible ways. He had saved the Princesses, but he still had two more members of the Royal family that needed rescue. His Queen was being held in Fort Liverpool, a prison for enemies of King James. A rescue was being planned, with Richard leading the force. 

 

“Did you hear me, man?” Dykins appeared right next to him, “You’re so tense.”

 

“I worry for my people, Sir. I worry for my queen. And I worry for the Virgin John, the last remaining pillar of the Church of Mendip Hill.” Ringo spoke without looking up from the maps. 

 

Dykins slapped his back, “They will be rescued and your people will get revenge.” Then the man chuckled, “‘John’ is an interesting name for a Virgin. Did she chose it?”

 

Sir Richard would never reveal the truth of his prince. “She arrived as an orphaned child to the Church, Major Mother assigned it to her.”

 

Dykins hummed. “Of course, when you get her back, she will become the Major Mother of the Mendip Hill Church.” He said this matter of factly. 

 

Richard hadn’t considered that, but of course that made sense. The Church had to be rebuilt and if John lived, he would be in charge of doing so. 

 

A part of him dared to think about Queen Mary Elizabeth dying, who would rule then? The princesses were much too young and even if the eldest was crowned, there would be no king. John, priestess as he might be, was an heir to the throne. He would be able to be crowned King alongside his half-sister. But of course, John did not have the military training and knowledge a prince would have. He grew up serving Goddess, aiding the citizens of Mendip Hill, dealing in administrative duties...Princess Julia was still young and could receive the military training in his stead-

 

He was getting too ahead of himself. Queen Mary Elizabeth would be fine. 

 

Dykins cleared his throat, “Sir Richard?”

 

Ringo startled and he shook his head. “What? Yes. Yes, he-she would be. Hopefully she is well.”

 

“Of course.” Dykins smiled at him. There was something slightly sick about it that Ringo couldn’t quite place. 

 

The flaps opened again and Sir Peter walked in. “Sirs,” he said, “The Red Light has returned.”

 

Richard straightened up, “Send him in.”

 

A thin figure in a long red robe walked in. He held an oak wood in hands with matching arrows on his back. “I bring news.” He spoke in his usual soft voice, “Of the Virgin John.”

 

Ringo moved closer to him. “Yes? Is she well?”

 

“She is a personal slave to Prince Paul of Allerton.”

 

Richard went cold. He knew well what a personal slave was. He frowned as a laugh rang behind him and turned to see Dykins stifling a smile. Ringo narrowed his eyes, “Is something amusing, Sir John?”

 

Dykins had the sense to look ashamed as he looked down. “Well, it is simply....Should we still call her a Virgin then?” Another small giggle escaped him. 

 

Ringo wanted to strangle him. 

 

Red Light cleared his throat, “You are mistaken. She has not been touched. Pau- The prince has left her alone.”

 

Ringo turned to him once again, “Did, did your informant assure you of this?”

 

Red Light nodded, “They did.” They had also informed him of this Virgin John’s true gender, but he trusted his observational skills when they told him that Sir Richard did not want this to be shared with Dykins. 

 

Ringo let out a sigh of relief. 

 

Dykins walked towards them, “What of Allerton’s defenses, are they still as you said?”

 

Red Light nodded again. “In fact, a great number of the court will be gone in two months time. They go to Asherton for Prince Paul’s wedding to Lady Jane.”

 

“Tokyo’s army is five months away at least.” Ringo lamented. 

 

“They will hurry when they hear of this opening.” Dykins sounded sure of himself. “King Eric will be pleased to hear this.”

 

Ringo had to agree. “Thank you,” He said to Red Light. “Your aid is always appreciated.”

 

Red Light only bowed and turned to leave. The hooded figure left the tent and walked to were his companion, in a brown hood, stood waiting next to their horses. 

 

“Everything alright, Mike?” Linda asked him.

 

The man once known as Prince Michael of Allerton looked at her with an amused smirk, “Very well. My father and his men will not know what hit them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave a comment, i love them


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